Letters of the Past
by otterlyardent
Summary: Hermione is sixty and all alone in the world when on a fateful day she wakes to read the news of Draco Malfoy's death. Not long after, his barrister arrives to tell her Draco's left her a bundle of letters and a way to rewrite their past if she wants it. Will these two be able to find love, redemption, and acceptance in their rapidly changing world after the war? Time travel AU.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Notes:** New story. After suffering from a tremendous bout of writer's block for several weeks, I had momentary bursts of inspiration, but they didn't work with my other WIP. I fell in love with what I had written and decided I had to find a way to use it and after another few weeks of tossing idea after idea around, one of my lovelies on Tumblr offered me a truly inspired headcanon and I couldn't refuse. _

_**Trinkisme** , you have my never-ending gratitude. You set this in motion and gave me my start. I adore you endlessly for it._

 _I must send love and kisses to **themourningmadam** , as well. Thank you, darling, for all the encouragement and excitement you shared with me earlier. It's quite an honor to earn the respect and admiration of someone you look up to and adore. Our conversation meant quite a bit to me. And I still say that you're much too kind._

 _As always, I do not own Harry Potter or any of the recognizable, trademarked characters named within this story. Queen JKR holds all the power, I'm merely a lowly peasant playing make-believe._

* * *

Hermione Granger's life had not gone according to plan, to say the very least. At age sixty, she lived alone with her kneazle Artemis - bought a few years after Crookshanks passed from old age. She married Ronald at twenty, though she felt they were too young and had much yet to accomplish. But it seemed so important to him and she felt she could deny him nothing. She agreed and walked down the aisle and made her vows. Hermione felt empty when they kissed to solidify their union. Something felt wrong, something was missing - but he looked so happy and carefree that she tried not to let it bother her. Most likely wedding day jitters, she told herself.

It was not.

Ronald wanted a family. Immediately. She wanted a career, there would be plenty of time for children. They were barely adults themselves. They argued viciously over it and in the end, Hermione had given in. It wasn't like she couldn't have a career and children, perhaps it would be more difficult but children were gifts from the greater powers that be and she had always wished to be someone's mummy.

It should have been a wondrous time in her life. Newly married and shagging like crazy to ensure a little Weasley would be growing in her womb, they should have been blissfully happy. And maybe, for a little while, they were. The time when the mediwitch informed her that she didn't have the muggle flu or dragon pox, but instead her vomiting at all hours of the day and night was because she was with child - she'd never seen Ronald smile so widely.

That was a joyous time, for roughly six weeks.

And then she lost the baby. He blamed her. Didn't comfort her. Was so angry with her.

And Hermione hadn't known what to do to make it better. Her heart was shattered, her little miracle was gone and she just didn't know what to do.

Ronald decided they would try again. Immediately. She didn't think she could. Hermione begged him to allow her to heal, to get over this all-encompassing loss they'd both experienced. He accepted, on the terms that after a year they would try again. He barely touched her in that year, though she was thankful for it.

The blame for losing their child weighed so heavily on her soul, and the fact that she'd never thought for a moment that it was her fault until he spoke those words - well, she didn't want him to touch her. She didn't want to speak to him if she could avoid it. He was always so angry. Hermione attributed it to the war and all the losses they all faced. They were damaged, of course, but still. That he could be so cruel and callous to the woman he said he loved more than anything, it cut her to the core.

Hermione spent that year in a daze of depression and mourning. She no longer wished to be the youngest Minister of Magic, she no longer wanted to spend her every waking moment playing the political game. Instead, she took a potions apprenticeship with St. Mungo's and worked in relative privacy. She didn't need to be surrounded by people all the time and tried to emulate Severus Snape. She'd get her mastery and terrify everyone that even dared look at her the wrong way. It felt like a good plan.

Once the year had passed, Ronald made sure to remind her that they had an agreement and shortly thereafter, she found that she was pregnant once more. Hermione did everything she could to make this little one stick, cut back on her hours of study, refused to allow herself to get upset, ate all the proper healthy things pregnant women should, she avoided caffeine and alcohol. It was all for naught. She lost their little girl at five months. It was much harder the second time around. She had felt her daughter move. Seen her stomach swelling with the life inside her. It destroyed a part of her.

And Ronald, sweet Merlin, he was brute about it. "Brightest witch of our age can't figure out how to keep a baby alive inside her own body? For fuck's sake, Hermione! Can't you do anything right?!"

She cried herself to sleep for months after that.

It was brutal and tragic and what's worse is that she began to believe him. This was all her fault, and she couldn't deny it. Ginny had already birthed two beautiful children and Hermione couldn't keep even one growing babe safe whilst in her own womb. It broke something inside of her. She continued on, going through the motions, accepting Ronald's abuse and torment, because she knew it came from his own pain - though she also knew he was in the wrong.

For a while, she didn't even have to ask for time before trying again. Ronald wanted nothing to do with her. He spent many nights in his Auror's office. They barely spoke to one another. There was no affection. No love or laughter. Just two people, barely making it through the days. Two years seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and Hermione found herself living a half-life. She was proud of her accomplishments and was well on her way to being a Potions Master but that was all. She barely saw her friends, and there was nothing between her and Ronald these days. Part of her wished he would just leave, leave and find some other witch that could give him as many redheaded babies as she could and Hermione could disappear into the shadows never to be heard from again.

But Ronald was a prideful and boastful man. He had wanted Hermione because she was treated like wizarding royalty after the war. Well loved and sought after, he enjoyed possessing her and letting the world know she was his. Hermione loathed it. She wanted to be cherished and adored, not flaunted and treated like a trophy. Like something he won.

Three years after losing their little girl, they made an appearance at the Ministry's Remembrance Ball. Ronald dragged her around the room, eager to show off and act as if they were the happiest couple in the world. It made Hermione sick to her stomach the entire evening and she downed glass after glass of champagne simply to numb herself to it all. Ronald was rather pissed himself by the time Harry ordered the pair to go home and sober up.

Hermione thanked him profusely and dragged an unwilling Ron to the floo and back to their home. She was woefully unprepared for the way he attacked her upon their arrival. He ripped her dress from her body and growled that it had been long enough and he would have what she promised him. No matter how hard she cried, nor how much she begged him not to do this to her, to them - he wouldn't listen. And three weeks later, she sobbed over the muggle pregnancy test that was indeed positive. This baby wasn't conceived of love, and she wasn't sure she could survive another loss.

Hermione screamed through her tears at her husband that she was pregnant and that she would never forgive him for basically raping her to achieve his own ends. They barely spoke those twelve weeks. He ordered her on bed rest, regardless of what the healer said. She was basically a captive in her own home, force-fed and watched like a hawk. It didn't matter.

Hermione was well aware that she and Ronald Weasley were never meant to be together, much less bring children into this world together. And when the bleeding began the third and final time, she wept with relief instead of grief. Of course, Ron was livid. And when he lashed out, he did so with brutal finality.

"I don't know why I ever thought you were it for me. You're broken and disgusting. What kind of witch is happy their child died in the womb?"

A witch that was violated and had no choice in the making of the said child, she'd told him. And he'd laughed. Coldly. In her face. Told her she was lucky he even touched her. That she was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen and if he ever saw her again it'd be too soon. He left that night, telling her she had a week before her things would be left on the curbside.

And she'd ran. Found herself a secluded cottage in the woods outside Wiltshire, gained her potions mastery and lived a solitary life with no friends or companionship outside of her familiars for the last thirty-five years. And though she wasn't happy, she was content enough with that.

After all, she'd survived.

* * *

Hermione's bones ached when she rose that morning, a sure sign that the weather would be rough and cold. Her body protested as she carried out her daily absolutions and she set the kettle to boil, eager for the warmth her morning tea would bring. As she opened the Daily Prophet, she found herself gasping and tears blurred her vision at the headline story: Draco Malfoy Dead at 59.

Certainly, their past had been rocky, to say the least, but it was unheard of for a wizard to die at such a young age unless they were murdered or had contracted some incurable disease. Malfoy had neither. His death was a mystery to everyone, and Hermione found herself grieving his loss - though she really didn't know why. It just seemed wrong, his life was cut way too short and maybe that's why she found herself sobbing over her rapidly cooling tea and crumpled paper.

It wasn't much later that a knock on her front door startled Hermione. She blinked and tilted her head looking at the door, still sniffling after her tearful outburst. She never had visitors. Gathering her robe about herself, Hermione answered the door with wariness rolling off of her in waves.

"Ms. Granger?" The man had a rather posh accent, dark, curly hair peppered with silver and deep blue eyes. He was smiling, a jovial and warm sort of smile that put her at ease.

"Yes, that's me," she answered him quietly. Nibbling worriedly on her bottom lip, a habit she'd never quite broken, she moved to the side and opened the door more widely. "Come in out of the cold, please."

"Thank you, miss. The name's Richard Wellington. I'm a barrister in charge of Draco Malfoy's estate."

Shock straightened Hermione's spine as she led him through her sitting area to the kitchen, "I'm sorry, you said Draco Malfoy? If that's the case I'm not certain why you're here, I haven't spoken to Malfoy in nearly thirty years. Tea?"

Richard took a seat at the table and smiled his friendly smile, nodding his acceptance to her offer, "Two sugars and a splash of cream, please? And I can assure you that I'm exactly where I'm meant to be."

"It doesn't make any sense," Hermione murmured as she made his tea and gave it to him. "Malfoy, he, he despised me. Why would he leave anything to me, it doesn't make sense. I must admit, Mr. Wellington, reading of his death this morning was a shock and it affected me much more than I care to admit but it's so uncommon and so unlikely, I didn't even know he was ill."

"Ah, yes. Terribly sad it was," Richard nodded sympathetically. "Mr. Malfoy hired me many years ago. I'm a muggle Ms. Granger, but my grandfather was a squib and I've known about the wizarding world since I was a young boy. I came to genuinely care for him, he was a really nice bloke." 

Hermione found it hard to swallow in the face of this man's grief, and that's what it was. His eyes were glassy speaking of Malfoy and his words trembled every so often, and it caused a pang of regret in her heart. Why had she never reached out to Malfoy after the war? She'd sent him an invitation to her wedding, though he declined. And she never really put forth any more effort.

"How did he die, if you don't mind me asking?" she murmured softly, curling her hands around her warm cuppa.

"It will sound ridiculous, but I believe Mr. Malfoy died of a broken heart, Ms. Granger," Richard sighed sadly. Hermione's eyes widened at his statement, and the ache in her chest grew stronger. She couldn't argue, it did sound far-fetched, but also maddeningly sad. "I met Mr. Malfoy when we were both still quite young. It seemed before his father was sent to prison, he had arranged a marriage for Draco with one Astoria Greengrass -"

Hermione gave a decidedly unladylike snort into her teacup, and Richard grinned at her reaction before continuing.

"Ah, you've heard of her. A right she-beast that one is. Draco was dead-set against marrying her. He told me then that he'd lost his heart at thirteen and never got it back and he simply refused to marry if it wasn't for love. I had to admire that."

Hermione was shocked to find a small smile playing on her lips, the idea that Draco Malfoy had fallen in love at such a young age and refused to settle for anything less warmed something deep within her that had long gone cold. She closed her eyes as Mr. Wellington spoke, conjuring up an image of Draco from long ago and she was surprised to find no lingering hurt or childish hatred for the man lurking deep within her heart. Only a burgeoning warmth for a man she never really knew, and would never have the chance to know.

"His inheritance was on the line with the way his father had arranged everything and Mr. Malfoy knew it would be next to impossible to convince any of his family lawyers or those in wizarding Britain to help him. Lucius Malfoy even locked away for the rest of his life, his name definitely preceded him. That's how Draco found me and we worked tirelessly together for his freedom. His words, not mine. He told me he spent years allowing his father to dictate everything he did and said and that he would not allow it another moment longer. Especially with this, with his heart. Of course, the Greengrasses were eager to blend their families, even more, eager for galleons that Lucius had promised them. Luckily though, Astoria was a stupid bint and believed she could do whatever she wished so long as she had the ironclad agreement in her family's vault. If she would've paid attention to the fine print, she would have seen the exclusivity clause. No Malfoy was ever to made a spectacle of, their honor and pride were quite important to the family name. So, with a private detective in our employ, we ended up with a rather large amount of evidence of her infidelities. A bit of a slag, that one."

The pair chuckled for a moment together before Hermione looked at him beseechingly, "As educational as this all is, Mr. Wellington-"

"Please call me Richard, I hate being called Mr. Wellington," he interrupted not unkindly.

"Richard," she corrected. "I still don't understand what brought you here today. As I said, Malfoy, er, Draco and I - we hardly knew one another outside of school so...there's no reason he would have left anything to me. Unless you're here to offer one last round of childish taunts, I'm not sure why you've been sent to me."

Richard cleared his throat and brought his briefcase onto his lap form the floor, "We discussed this a few months ago, Ms. Granger. He came to my office with a bundle of letters and a small package and ordered me to deliver them to you upon his death. It was shocking to me as well, my grandfather lived to be one hundred and thirty years old, as a squib and I knew it was common for witches and wizards to live much longer lives than muggles. I had thought, perhaps he was just getting his affairs in order, as any respectable man was wont to do. But he did look rather frail then, almost sickly. I asked if there were a reason why he wished to do this now when certainly he had many years left to live and he told me that a heart that's been broken is much weaker than one that has not and that he was tired of trying to live half a life. He was tired of being alone and unhappy and refused to fight it anymore. He told me he could feel his magic weakening, and once it was gone, he would be too. He made me promise, Ms. Granger - the absolute first thing I was to do upon his passing was to find you and deliver these things to you. It was important to him and therefore it is important to me."

Hermione watched as he pulled a large bundle of aged parchment tied up with a periwinkle blue ribbon and set it between them on the table, before placing a black velvet pouch beside them. She found it hard to swallow as she stared at the items in front of her as if they would transform into some terrifying creature and attack her at any moment.

"Mr. Malfoy's only request is that you read the letters first before you look in the pouch. I haven't read the letters, I wouldn't betray his confidence in that way, but if I may Ms. Granger?"

"Hermione, please," she whispered before letting her finger run along the silken fabric holding the bundle together. It was the exact shade of her dress from the Yule Ball in their fourth year.

"Hermione," he responded in a soft and kind voice. "Mr. Malfoy spoke of you sometimes. Always with reverence and fondness. I must admit, I'm quite taken aback that there seems to be quite a bit of animosity in your shared past because I always presumed that the person he lost his heart too was you."

Staring across the table at Draco Malfoy's barrister, Hermione blinked, open-mouthed for several long moments before shaking her head slowly. "No," she whispered. "There's no way."

Mr. Wellington offered her a sad smile and covered her small hand with his own, "I'm fairly certain, Hermione. And having met you, I think I understand. I'm sure this is all quite a shock and I'm terribly sorry for interrupting your morning, but if you'll sign just a few papers I'll get out of your hair and you can find all the answers you need within the letters Mr. Malfoy left to you. At least, I truly hope you will."

* * *

 _Endnotes: Chapter two will be up within the hour. That's where the real excitement begins! _

_Please read and review. Each and every review strengthens my resolve to push past my anxiety and share my work. Even if it's only a quick note to let me know you've enjoyed it so far, it reinforces and reaffirms my decision to put myself out there._

 _I g_ _enuinely appreciate each and every one of you._

 _Until next time, xoxo - otterly_


	2. Chapter 2

**_Author's Notes:_** _Chapter two, as promised. I hope you all enjoy it. It's a labor of love and I hope I'm getting right. Happy reading._

 _Again, I do not own Harry Potter. I do own a t-shirt that says Malfoy 07 on the back and I'm ridiculously proud of it._

* * *

After the barrister left with instructions to contact him if she had any questions, Hermione moved to her sitting area and stared at the bundle of letters in a daze for what felt like hours. She felt terribly nervous for some reason, and even though Richard had seemed so certain in regards to Malfoy's feelings, Hermione worried these letters could be filled with more hate and contempt for her and she wasn't certain she was strong enough to endure it now.

So instead, Hermione felt herself stalling. She took care of her weekly correspondence, much of her work was done from home and she spoke with her employees and employers via letter. She set about checking the progress of different brews in her workroom and found everything perfectly as it should be. Then she made a light lunch and set about tidying her already neat home. Artemis followed her room to room, watching her with judging eyes.

"Don't look at me like that. I'll read them when I have time."

Her plaintive meow sounded haughty and disbelieving.

"He's dead Artie, it's not like he's awaiting my response."

The kneazle tilted her head to the side and narrowed her shining green eyes, before demurely lifting a paw and cleaning it. Clearly, she was not impressed with her owner's argument.

"Fine!" Hermione finally huffed and threw down the throw she'd refolded for the third time. Stomping past her annoying familiar, she slumped down on her overstuffed couch and with much trepidation pulled the letters into her lap. Artemis leaped onto the coffee table and made herself comfortable while watching her owner. "This is a mistake, you know? Regardless of what's in here, it doesn't matter, Artie. What's worse? Knowing something and being unable to do anything about it, or never knowing and living life without that knowledge?"

Letting loose a long-suffering sigh, Hermione unbound the letters and settled more comfortably into the cushions. She closed her eyes briefly, willing herself calm and steeled her nerve. Nothing written here could harm her, and Draco Malfoy was beyond the veil - there was nothing to be afraid of.

So why did she feel utterly terrified?

* * *

 _Granger,_

 _Though I imagine I'll never work up the courage to actually give you this letter, I felt compelled to write it regardless. I'm much too cowardly to try and approach you, especially after my behavior this afternoon. It was a terrible thing to do, and though I'm sure you wouldn't believe it - my mother would be ashamed of the horrid things I said in the company of a young lady and the fact that I said them to a young lady...well, let's just say I'd rather not be on the receiving end of that howler._

 _Truth be told, Granger - I said those things with the intent to hurt and I feel utterly ashamed of it. See, my whole life I've been lead to believe that those of muggle birth are wrong and dangerous. That they're stealing our magic from us. I've been told all my life that Muggle-born witches and wizards don't have the control necessary to use magic safely and effectively. As well as lacking the intelligence needed to learn the proper use of said magic and spells._

 _Imagine my horrified surprise to find that my whole life has basically been a lie. You're not only incredibly gifted with your magic but you're also undeniably brilliant. You've managed to surpass all of us and in such a brief amount of time. I fear my actions today were spawned from the argument I had with my father recently. He's very put out with me because I've "allowed" you to beat me in each and every subject. He's very cross with me at the moment and told me in no uncertain terms that I'm sullying the Malfoy name each time you do better than I._

 _And it's with a heavy heart that I realized I acted out of jealousy, spite, and embarrassment and hurt you with my words. I overheard your friends speaking about your reaction later, and truthfully Granger - I feel like a bloody arse. No matter what your opinion is of me, which I'm fully aware must be very low - I feel no sense of victory knowing that my words cut deeply enough to make someone as strong as you cry._

 _I don't like making girls cry. I don't like knowing I made you cry. I feel horrible about it all. It's rather confusing, to be entirely honest._

 _I wish I could tell you how bloody brilliant I think you are. I'm sure you know this already, about your brilliance, I mean. But not only that, Granger. You're kind and loyal and gentle and ...good. It's no wonder you were sorted into Gryffindor - I don't think anyone else embodies the house quite like you do. You're rather amazing, Granger. Muggle-born, or not. I wish I could tell you that instead of trying to tear you down each and every time we face off._

 _I am sorry, Granger. Truly. I wish I could be as good a person as you are. I wish I were allowed to be._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

* * *

Hermione felt the prickle of tears and placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart to soothe the ache his words caused. Who was this Draco Malfoy? And why, why, why had she never gotten meet him? She could feel his sincerity with each word and it ached. It hurt on the deepest level because he'd never get the chance to hear her say it was okay. They were children. And he obviously didn't mean it.

Brushing the tears from her cheeks, Hermione tenderly placed the first letter to the side and grabbed the next. She met her familiar's gaze and rolled her eyes, "Oh, shut up Artemis."

* * *

 _Hermione,_

 _I swear by the old gods and new, I didn't mean it._

 _I don't want you to die. I don't even know why I said such a horrific thing._

 _I do know that I've been sick twice just thinking about it. What the bloody hell is wrong with me?_

 _And now you're in the infirmary and no one knows if or when you'll all wake up and I'm so fucking sorry...so sorry. I'd curse my own bloody self if it'd help in any way. I wish there were something I could do, I wish I could atone for this disgusting, vile need to lash out at you so often._

 _I hate myself for it. You don't deserve it, Hermione. I know you don't, but it's expected of me and I'm just not strong enough to forge my own way. And Merlin knows you deserve so much better._

 _Fuck, please wake up, Hermione. Even if I can never bring myself to actually apologize to you-you have to wake up. You make the world brighter just by being a part of it._

 _Please wake up. And forgive me. Please._

 _Yours,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

* * *

Hermione hands shook, making the aged parchment ripple within their grasp. Second year, he wrote this second year. Glancing at the letter she placed face down on the cushion beside her, she licked her suddenly dry lips. Somehow she knew that letter was written after the first time he called her mudblood. This one, after he wished for her death and she was petrified by the basilisk.

He meant every word. That much she was sure of. His self-loathing was evident and it broke her heart for the little boy that wrote with so much emotion and contrition. Hermione would've never guessed that he felt this way and was overcome with gratitude that he felt compelled to share this with her, even if it was too late. The more she read, the more those old wounds - long forgotten - began to knit themselves together and heal.

It was with an eagerness she hadn't felt in years that she picked up the next letter, already absorbed into this private look within Draco Malfoy's tortured soul.

* * *

 _Hermione Granger,_

 _I'm so bloody proud of you._

 _While you would probably never believe me, my wounded pride after the hippogriff incident isn't what caused me to go to my father over it. And I truly didn't know that he would be so savage in his quest for retribution. I know now that my behavior that day caused the attack, but the moment it happened, you had looked so frightened and all I could think was that I didn't want anything like that to happen to you or anyone else I guess._

 _But blimey, the way you looked when you were stomping towards me, your wild hair was crackling with magic and your eyes - your eyes were flashing with fury and righteous indignation and then you punched me and Merlin, it hurt but all I could think was how fucking proud I was of you. You showed absolutely no fear, and even though you must've been overwhelmed in your grief at the matter, not an ounce of it showed at that moment._

 _You looked like a glorious avenging angel ready to strike me down._

 _You never cease to amaze me. I'm sorry about the whole damn thing, except for that punch. I've deserved it for years and I'm quite happy you got the chance to do it. You deserved to be the one to do so._

 _Sincerely,_

 _The foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach_

* * *

watery chuckle escaped her at the memory dredged up by this letter. And he was proud of her for breaking his nose? She dropped her head to the back of the couch and just laughed, deep belly laughs that shook her slight frame. Gods, she hadn't thought about that day in what felt like a million years.

Hermione pictured his face right after her fist connected with his nose, and though he had been in a rather large amount of pain, there had been some odd emotion shining in his eyes when he stared back at her in shock. And if memory serves correctly, his lips had been curving into his signature smirk before being dragged off by his friends - no doubt to the hospital wing. Her stomach did a little twist and flip at the memory and she couldn't fight her smile.

Hermione allowed her fingers to trace over the elegant script and for once, she felt a heady sense of regret over not trying harder to break through his walls when they were children, and not reaching out after the war to offer him her friendship if he wanted it. She knew very little of Malfoy post-war. He kept to himself, was rarely seen out in public. He donated large sums of money to very worthwhile causes. He took exceptional care of his mother, all the days of her life.

Draco worked hard, albeit privately, to repair the damage caused to his family name. He never married, much to the distress of all single women in wizarding london. He had been an extremely handsome man. He grew into the angles and points of his younger body and looked regal and aristocratic with a strong, chiseled jaw and shining silver eyes. He never lost his moonlit blonde hair, so pale and luxurious looking. Hermione would have to be dead or entirely asexual not to be moved by his exquisite appearance.

Such a loss, she mused. He was beautiful, intelligent and judging by these letters he was also kind and disliked behaving the way he felt he had to, in order to keep up appearances. She felt for him, deeply so. How lonely had his life been? Did he ever find any semblance of happiness?

The ache that had settled in the center of her chest only seemed to grow with each letter and Hermione thought perhaps she should stop, maybe there was nothing to be gained by reading his heartfelt words. Only pain and missed opportunity. Still, she was Hermione Granger and her curiosity was unrivalled. With her decision made, she pushed onward, devouring his words with a childlike wonder she hadn't felt in ages.

* * *

 _Hermione,_

 _You looked utterly breathtaking tonight. I cannot express in words how beautiful you looked. It literally took my breath away. And trust me, I was not the only one. I've always known that you were attractive on some level, I am a man and you are a woman and we notice those types of things, but tonight?_

 _You looked like an angel._

 _I saw you after, crying. It quite simply broke my heart to see you broken mere hours after you looked like you were on top of the world. I had wanted to come to you and offer comfort, but I knew I couldn't and you most likely would've hexed me had I tried. So instead, I poked around until I found someone willing to gossip._

 _The Weasel is stupid, Granger. He's blind and ignorant and I'd love nothing more than to break his stupid face with my fists._

 _You were glorious tonight, Hermione. He's probably only cross because he was too thick to notice what we all have and embarrassed that he blew his chance. I sincerely hope you don't take any of what that imbecile said to heart._

 _You're much too smart for that._

 _You're a beautiful girl, Hermione. A beautiful girl with a beautiful soul and brilliant mind. Anyone would be extraordinarily lucky to call you their own. And I'm so dreadfully sorry that your night was tarnished._

 _I feel kind of hollow and desperately sad about it myself._

 _Perhaps it's because my evening was spent listening to Pansy ramble on and on about you in jealousy. But I doubt it._

 _Chin up, Hermione. You're much too beautiful to cry._

 _Yours,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

* * *

Butterflies. A million butterflies had suddenly taken up residence in her stomach. She felt the bright grin stretching across her lips as her cheeks warmed from his ridiculous words of praise. Draco Malfoy had found her beautiful. It shouldn't have mattered as much as it did, but warmth spread quickly throughout her being and she found herself tracing the 'Yours' over and over.

How had she never realized? Once upon a time, a long, long time ago - Hermione had harbored quite the crush on the cruel Slytherin boy. She knew it was wrong and constantly tried to talk herself out of it, but there was something about him. Not just his good looks, he was smart and she knew he'd be able to keep up with her and match her wit for wit. He was passionate about the things he enjoyed and she found it nearly irresistible. More than once, Hermione had daydreamed about a Malfoy that didn't loathe her very existence. One who valued her vast intelligence and would debate topics with her, with that same kind of passion. A Malfoy that would see her as his equal and cherish her thoughts and opinions.

After sixth year, those dreams were lost to war and running for their lives - but now, sitting here and thumbing through memory after memory with him, she found herself once again longing for things to have been different. A selfish thought, of course, but she couldn't help it. Could he have wished for the same, all this time?

And if he had, why hadn't he tried? Hermione knew she was stubborn and would freely admit that she could hold a grudge, but had he come to her and shown her all this long ago...well, who knows what would have happened?

That thought hurt in a way she didn't expect and this time she wasn't surprised in the least when tears began to slip down her cheeks unchecked.

* * *

 _Hermione,_

 _I am so sorry._

 _This is getting too hard now. How am I supposed to apologize for my own father trying to kill you and all of your friends? How am I supposed to make that any better?_

 _I was so relieved when you pulled through. That curse you took, it's ghastly. I thought for sure…_

 _But you're always surprising me, aren't you? You're so bloody strong, Granger. Salazar forgive me, but I think you're the most incredible witch I've ever met._

 _Things are getting bad, really bad and I'm bloody terrified, Hermione. I don't want this. Any of it, but - I have no choice. I don't know what to do. Gods, I'd give anything to actually be able to talk to you about this. You're so fucking smart, Granger. If anyone could figure a way out, it'd be you._

 _Fuck._

 _Should have, could have, would have…_

 _Blast, Hermione, I'm never going to be able to earn your forgiveness now. I had hoped, desperately that one day, maybe...but no, not now._

 _Is it wrong of me to hate my father?_

 _Regretfully yours,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

* * *

Oh, how this one hit the softest parts of her. She understood now why he hadn't breached the divide, he felt he didn't deserve to. This poor boy. Hermione longed to wrap her arms around him and tell him that it was okay, it wasn't his fault. He had no part in it and she certainly wouldn't have held it against him.

How she wished he would have come to her. She would have done anything and everything to help save him from what was to come. She felt nauseous knowing things would only get darker for him from this moment on, had he had anyone to lean on during those dark and disastrous times? Or did he keep it all close to the vest, hidden away behind his mask of indifference and cruelty?

Did it break him? Did he ache like this, this hollow and agonizing sensation that filled her chest with each word? How did he survive it?

* * *

 _Hermione,_

 _They fucking branded me, Granger. Held me down and held a blade to my mother's throat. I don't know how I'm not dead already. My mother fought so fucking hard, Hermione. She didn't want this for me. I didn't want this for me._

 _I'm nothing more than a slave, Granger. This unholy madman is living in my home, torturing my family and ordering me to allow his minions into the one place where I've felt safe and free and he wants me to desecrate it and...and he's ordered me to kill._

 _Dumbledore. Of all people, he wants me, a sixteen-year-old boy to kill the strongest wizard of our age. Do you think it's because he's scared to do it himself? Obviously, I'm meant to fail. After my father's failure at the ministry, our family is basically nothing but a joke to him and his Death Eaters._

 _He keeps telling me that he'll torture my mother, slowly. Flay her open and paint the manor with her guts. My father is rather safe at the moment, being in Azkaban, but my mum, Hermione - she never wanted any of this. And she's terrified. I can't help but wonder if you'd forgive me for doing this if you knew all of what's going on._

 _I like to imagine you would. You seem like the kind of woman who would. You have that kind of heart. One that sees through all the bullshit and gets straight to the heart of the matter._

 _You know what my biggest fear is, Hermione? That somehow, when I lead these nasty, evil people into the school - they'll find you. They'll hurt you. And I don't know if I'm strong enough to stop them. I don't know if I'm strong enough for any of this._

 _This wasn't supposed to happen. I never wanted this. Not any of it._

 _I'm not evil. I don't want to be evil. I don't want you to think I'm evil._

 _It's all for naught now._

 _Always,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

* * *

She didn't even attempt to hold back the sobs that shook her small frame. Hermione had known all this, lived it along with him. But this? Truth be told, she'd always felt for him in this aspect. He had been a boy, with absolutely no choice. Hot anger licked through her veins at the thought of his lost innocence.

Yes, he'd been cruel to her as a child. He had said some of the vilest things to her, wished her dead, spat in her general direction every chance he got - but at the same time, he was boy being lead by his nose throughout it all. He had to treat her that way, lest it get back to his father. He had to maintain an air of indifference and loathing, for his own safety.

Artemis, distraught by her owner's obvious grief, climbed next to Hermione and nuzzled her knee. Needing the comfort, Hermione cuddled her companion to her chest and allowed herself to mourn Draco's terrible fate. Had he any idea how strong he was? Did he understand just how honorable it was to offer his childhood and innocence to save the life of his mother? Did he any idea, any at all, how much that would endear him to her?

Sweet Merlin, she wished she could have been there for him. She found herself muttering curses at her younger self for not taking the time to puzzle him out, instead of returning his hate and vitriol at every turn. Hermione thought her heart was long ago broken beyond repair, but she felt all the pieces within her chest shattering with painful precision with every beat.

Draco had suffered far more than she had ever given him credit for. Had he been all alone during that time? The only company being murderers and lunatics who would just as soon torture him within an inch of his life as they would break bread with him?

He had been all alone once he returned to school, that much she remembered clearly. Because of Harry's disturbing interest in Draco, she had paid closer attention herself. Draco was a shell in sixth year. He barely spoke to anyone, spent all his time hidden away in the Room of Requirement. She watched as his withered away that year, hardly eating and if the dark circles under his sunken eyes were any indication, he slept very little.

Nightmares, no doubt.

Why hadn't she offered an olive branch? She knew something was horribly wrong, even assumed he'd been marked - more than once she'd been tempted, but talked herself out of it. Why would he want her of all people to comfort him or offer advice? Hermione had been certain he'd laugh at her, turn her away in the most callous way, perhaps he'd even curse her.

Oh, how she regretted not following her instincts now.

* * *

 _Hermione,_

 _Forgive my sloppiness. As soon as the Dark Lord's retribution was had for allowing you three to escape, I ran to my room to write you a letter you're never going to see. I'm such a pathetic person. I watched as you were tortured in front of me, and I did nothing. I wanted to kill her. My aunt. I wanted to cut her down and tear her limb from limb. I've seen many horrible things, Granger - too many, and much too awful for you to hear but seeing you under her wand was a whole new level of terror._

 _I wanted to vomit, I wanted to run to you and shield you from her insanity, I wanted to hold you and tell you everything would be fine, I'd get you out of there and you'd be healed and everything would be fine…_

 _And then she pulled out that cursed blade and I swear to you my world stopped. I don't know what to say, Hermione. I don't have words to apologize for what happened to you. And now that word is etched into your skin and I feel personally responsible. I know that if I made one move against my aunt, my mother would have suffered because of it. So I had to choose, protect the only woman who has ever touched my heart, or sit silently as the horror unfolded to protect the only woman who's ever loved me unconditionally._

 _Am I really so awful that the fates themselves enjoy causing me so much pain that I can only beg for it end, over and over, until they finally pity me enough to acquiesce? I loathe myself, Granger, for all the things that I've done. If I could have, I would have saved you from that, Hermione. I swear to you, I would have. I wouldn't think twice before grabbing you and apparating to a different country, I would have gotten you best medical care and nursed you back to health, I swear it._

 _You deserved that, Hermione. And I didn't do it. What does that make me? I fancy myself in love with you, you know? And I just let you get tortured, in front of me, and made no move to stop it. I had hoped not identifying you three would have you all sent to the dungeons and I could have helped all of you escape - later when my parents and aunt were arguing. I prayed actually, and I don't even believe in the muggle Gods._

 _But alas, that's not what happened and I now know that I'll never deserve you - in any capacity. Be it as friends or more, I don't deserve it. Maybe I never have. I'm so bloody sorry, Granger._

 _That slur on your arm, it's pointless, Hermione. I've seen your blood. It's just as red and as_ life-giving _as mine. There's nothing muddy or dirty about you. You're fucking glorious. So please, whenever you look at it, see the strength that I did while she was desecrating your body. Because you're so strong. Much stronger men have caved under Bellatrix, and you didn't. Not even for a moment._

 _I loathe every second of what you went through, but seeing your strength in the face of certain death? It makes me believe that I can be strong like that too. I promise you, Hermione, I'll do everything in my power to make sure Potter wins this_ war _because you deserve a life where you're celebrated for your strength and your character and just how bloody amazing you are._

 _I love you, Granger. I don't think that's ever going to change._

 _Please don't die. I know that's stupid to ask, it's not like you have any control over it, but please, please - don't die._

 _Yours,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

* * *

Hermione couldn't breathe. She blinked, unseeing as her mind raced. Slowly, she ran her fingertips over the slur that still marred her skin and cried. She hadn't cried so much, for so long since the loss of her daughter. Her throat felt raw from the tears and she felt weary and cold.

Deciding a break was absolutely needed for her mental health, Hermione shuffled towards her bathroom. A long hot shower, comfortable fleece pajamas and a strong cup of tea would be necessary before she could continue this insight into Draco Malfoy's soul. Each time she thought she had the tears conquered, she'd remember what the barrister said. He lost his heart at thirteen and never got it back. He loved her for years upon years and never married. Her mind, being particularly cruel, conjured an image of Draco all alone in his massive manor, day after day.

And she fell to pieces all over again.

Maybe she was a sentimental old woman, one who had long been starved for love and affection for decades - but this was an epic and unfair 'what if'- one that was gloriously painful. She couldn't run to him, letters in hand and tell him that she forgave it all, and thought he was so strong and wonderful. She would never have the opportunity to look him in the eye and tell him that he was a good man and that he didn't deserve any of horrors he survived. And that she was sorry she never offered him a chance because he deserved it.

When she finally settled herself back in place, last two letters in hand, Hermione sent up a quick prayer for it to get better, even marginally so. She didn't think she could continue to read through his suffering because it just hurt too much. She longed for him to find happiness somewhere. Craved it. Needed it.

* * *

 _Granger,_

 _You made it. I don't give a lick about anything else, but seeing you in the great hall after the dust settled and the smoke cleared - it took everything in me not to come up to you and crush you to me. I wanted to, desperately. But I saw that Weasel had already claimed that privilege. It hurts, but I don't mind. You deserve happiness, Hermione. And if he's the one that'll give it to you, then...well, whatever you want is what makes me happy._

 _Just don't settle, Granger. Please don't settle. I don't have the highest hopes for Weasley, but because of you, I certainly hope he proves me wrong. You deserve the best, Granger. Always._

 _You always have._

 _Is it wrong that I wish it were me?_

 _Yours,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

* * *

She had settled. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was the truth. Again she found herself smiling down at the parchment, his words bittersweet and endearing. It was the shortest one yet, but Hermione understood. He glossed over his hurt, but with her newfound understanding, it must have been incredibly painful to bare. He was overjoyed that she survived and heartbroken that he'd missed his chance.

Who would want to dwell on that?

' _Oh, Draco,_ ' she thought miserably, ' _I'm so sorry._ '

* * *

 _Hermione,_

 _You're getting married today. Thank you for the invitation, by the way. I know you did that, Weasel would never. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to attend. I'm certain you'll be gorgeous. That's honestly the hardest part of not attending. I want to see you in your beautiful white gown, all made up and too beautiful for words. But I can't see you like that, walking down the aisle to him._

 _I'm fairly certain it would kill me._

 _Yes, I have a flair for the dramatics, but this is a raw and unending kind of pain that I can't truly describe. It goes beyond jealousy, what I feel toward the Weasel. He's not good enough for you. You deserve so much more. Hell, I know I'm not good enough for you - but it hurts that you believe he is. Don't ask me why- I've long since stopped trying to understand all of this. It just is._

 _It just is._

 _I imagine you're getting ready now. Weaselette is probably running around being bossy as your maid of honor, and Mrs. Weasley's probably blubbering in a corner because her wildest dreams have come true, and you're soon to be her daughter. I can almost imagine you sitting in front of a vanity, people rushing around and doing your hair and makeup, not that you need that garbage. I can see you, smiling softly even though you must be nervous. That small smile, it's a private smile. Not one you often share with others._

 _I've seen it though. I'd often find myself watching you at meals, and that's when I'd see it. Whether it be because you figured out an impressive arithmancy problem, or when you've decidedly trounced some rude arse. Just a small, pleased grin that somehow transformed your entire face. I love that smile._

 _Maybe I'm being too sensitive. Maybe I should be there. Maybe that will give me closure on this adolescent fantasy I've held so close to my heart for so many years. But see, darling, I'm not brave like you. I'm not strong like you. And I just don't think I'll survive the pain of it._

 _So no, I'll send my gift and my good wishes and hide away like I have been. It's easier this way._

 _I wish you every happiness, Hermione. You deserve it all and more. I wish I could have been the one to give it to you._

 _I swear to you, I'll kill him if he hurts you. Without a second thought._

 _I think I'll love you until my very last breath. And that's beyond terrifying._

 _Always,_

 _Draco_

* * *

"Oh," Hermione groaned, long and low, as she draped an arm over her eyes. Her world had been knocked off axis and she didn't know what to do. What could she do? Why would he send her these letters only after he was gone? Even more so, why hadn't he sought her out after her very public divorce?

She felt exhausted, emotionally and physically. There were no more letters, there needn't be. It was all quite clear to her now and left her feeling empty and hollow. All she could do was imagine a different life, one where they didn't spend half their lives alone and miserable.

Even if all they ever had was friendship, wouldn't it have been better than nothing? Did he truly die from a broken heart? Had his life been so sad and so lonely that he simply withered away? Hermione didn't want to believe that. She couldn't believe that, because it hurt too deeply to consider it.

Exhaling a shaky breath, Hermione's eyes landed on the mysterious pouch still resting on the table and she swallowed thickly. She honestly didn't think she could survive much more of this exquisite torture.

* * *

 _ **Endnotes:**_ _I promise there's a world of hope just around the bend. Keep the faith! Please read and review. Make my muse happy._

 _With much love and until next time, xoxo. - otterly_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note:_ _I'm speechless, you guys. I don't have the words to properly show my gratitude for the love and support I've been given today. The only thing I have to offer is more of the story, so while I enjoyed my two chapter cushion, you all deserve to be pampered a bit in response. I also wanted to express my heartfelt sympathy to each of you that have reviewed and told me of your own angel babies. There is no grief like it and my heart aches for each and every one of you. I apologize, sincerely and whole-heartedly that I forgot my duty to my readers and failed to add a trigger warning before the first chapter. It's a sensitive topic and I should have considered the possible consequences._

 _This chapter isn't quite as long as the previous, but I hope you'll enjoy it just as much. I'm really excited for this journey and I hope you all will be, too._

 _I do not own Harry Potter. That honor belongs solely to JKR. I'm still pissed she never offered Draco redemption. That poor baby deserved it. I don't know if I'll ever get over it._

* * *

Her hands shook ferociously as she reached for the soft fabric. It was heavier than she expected and for a long moment, she just weighed it in her palms.

She was scared. If nothing else, his letters proved that he cared for her deeply and would never wish harm to come to her, so that wasn't what was frightening her. This unknown object lying in her hands felt important. A heady sense of destiny seemed to wash over her at that moment, enough to encapsulate her and send a thrill through her magic.

Time seemed to slow as she loosened the string and tilted the pouch towards her waiting hand. Another folded bit of parchment and something golden, heavy and cold in her palm. Her breathing slowed and her heart thudded painfully against her ribs as she closed her fist around the object. Hermione eagerly plucked the note and she only closed her eyes for three beats of her heart before reading his meticulously elegant handwriting.

* * *

 _Love,_

 _I have no right to ask you this, no right at all - but you've always been the brave one, Hermione. Believe me, I wanted to use this. I have been desperate for another chance for as long as I can remember. I could never bring myself to do so, though. What could I change? What could I do? You, my beautiful and brilliant angel, you can fix it. I know you can._

 _You've read my letters, you know how I feel and it's never changed, Hermione. Only deepened and grown into something all-encompassing. I've loved you for nearly as long as I've known you and I don't regret a single second of it. If this finds you and you find yourself wondering what could have been, or wishing for another chance (even if it has nothing to do with me, though I fervently hope it will) then please, please use this and do everything you want to. Everything, love._

 _Be fearless and reckless and wonderful, just as you always were. Let your incredible heart guide you and you'll never be lead astray. And if you find it in your heart to permit me a chance, Hermione I swear to you I'll do everything in my power to make you the happiest you can be. It's all I've ever wanted. To treasure you the way you deserve._

 _It's all in your hands now, love. I'm sorry to do things this way, I'm a coward through and through but even a coward can hope, can't he? I do love you, Hermione. I'm so proud of you. I've kept a record of all your accomplishments, and I know my Godfather would be incredibly proud of as well. Your brilliance was the first thing I admired about you. The second was your eyes. In all my years and all the things I've seen, your eyes are still the most beautiful thing in my world. I have missed the golden flecks that sparkle when you're excited or passionate about something. It's been far too long, Granger._

 _But the memory of you is what kept me going as long as I have. My only wish, Hermione, is for another chance. Just one. And I could've taken it for myself if I had been intelligent enough to figure out when and where to go, and how to approach you - I could have taken that chance for myself. I couldn't though, and not just because I'm a pathetic coward that's terrified of putting himself out there in fear of rejection._

Call me stupid or a blundering sap blinded by love, but gods, I want you to _choose me. I am desperately hoping that after baring my heart and soul to you, that you'll take this gift and choose to rewrite our story. That you'll choose to use this and give me a chance to show you exactly how much you mean to me, how much you've always meant to me._

 _I'm painfully aware that I don't know your life now, Hermione. You could be blissfully happy and loved with everything you've always desired and if that's the case, I'll never hold it against you if you put all this away without another thought, but on the off chance that you're not and life hasn't gone the way you hoped - consider me, Hermione? Please?_

 _I love you, Hermione Granger. It's absurd, I know. But it's the truth, I've loved you since I was thirteen and you punched me in the face. For a while, I wondered what that said about me. But I know now that while that punch forced me to come to terms with how I felt for you, I'd been admiring you from the moment I met you on the train. I used to talk about you to my parents and friends endlessly. Yes, mostly I was complaining and sulking but it's always been you. This small thing, all wild and unruly. Kind and selfless. Intelligent and bossy. Beautiful and generous. I've never been able to find a single fault in you, Granger._

 _I'll never deserve it, I know that. But if you can find it in your heart to do this, Hermione - I swear on everything I hold dear, my very magic: I will do everything in my power to bring you happiness and joy. I want nothing more than to give you everything you've always dreamed of. That's my idea of Heaven, Granger. And I'd be eternally grateful if you'd give me the chance to experience it, though I certainly don't deserve it._

 _Yours - in every meaning of the word,_

 _Draco_

* * *

Even before Hermione unfurled her fist, she knew what was weighing heavily in the palm of her hand. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and considered everything. Her only companion was Artemis. She had her work, yes; numerous cures, and life-saving remedies she had discovered and shared with the world. Hermione was obscenely proud of those achievements, but they were truly all she had.

There was no loving and warm husband waiting for her in her bed at night. There were no children to bring light and joy to her life. What friendships she did have were strained and barely there, by her own doing. After everything with Ronald, Hermione had closed herself off and needed the distance. As a matter of self-preservation, she had erected walls all around herself and was unwilling to allow anyone to breach them.

While she wasn't utterly miserable in her life, it certainly wasn't anything like what she'd once imagined for herself. If she were to be completely honest, she had always dreamed of finding someone to love wholeheartedly and without fear. She dreamed of growing old and grey together, always laughing and loving one another to the fullest. She'd wanted nothing more. Someone who would accept her flaws and all, and love her flaws as much as they loved the best parts of her. Once, she thought Ron was that person. She'd learned the hard way that he wasn't.

And following that disaster, she never opened herself up to that possibility ever again.

Hermione stared at the time-turner in her hand.

If her heart kept it's fast and furious pace, there was a real possibility she might not live long enough to make a decision.

She took a long look around her home before her eyes fell on Draco's letters once again.

Could she live with herself if she didn't take this chance? Could she face her reflection every single day, knowing she could have had everything missing in her life right now but she wasn't brave enough to take it? Wasn't it only just a little while ago that she had wished for the chance to speak to Draco? And here it was. He'd somehow found and purchased a time-turner, with the sole purpose of one of them traveling back in time to give their younger selves another chance.

There was nothing holding her here, not really. She loved Artemis, yes, but that wasn't enough to refuse this opportunity. Draco deserved this. He really and truly did, and truth-be-told, she wanted to give him this chance. She wanted to see what would happen if she went back and told her younger self - everything.

Hermione hoped that Draco was her missing piece. She'd always felt it. In every big moment of her life, there'd been this feeling that it wasn't complete. There was a void that was painful. It wasn't right. And now, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if it had been him that was missing. If he had been there, would it have all made perfect sense?

Hermione turned to Artemis and gathered her in her arms. Stroking her soft and warm fur, tears began to flow freely once again.

"I'm going to miss you girl," Hermione sniffled. "Well, in actuality, we won't have existed after I do this. So I can't really miss you, but I digress. You've been my only friend for a few years now, sweet girl. And I love you dearly. You're a pain in my arse, yes, but I've always loved you for it. You know that, right? You know that I love you, Artemis?"

She felt slightly hysterical and utterly ridiculous, but the way Artie bumped her head against her chin with a woeful mrow and nuzzled against her neck made Hermione feel that the animal understood well enough. The pair cuddled one another for several long moments, the witch found it unbelievably hard to let go of her sweet cat. She'd been there for her through thick and thin, better or worse. The kneazle took no shit and gave no fucks. They were a match made in heaven and it wrecked Hermione to say goodbye.

After setting out some fresh tuna as a treat and an apology, Hermione gathered the letters and marched into her bedroom then sat on the edge of her bed. Her mind ran through her options quickly as she tied the ribbon around the bundle, considering the pros and cons of each choice. This was not only about granting Malfoy a second chance and hopefully offering some sort of redemption, but also a means to save her younger self from a world of pain and heartbreak.

Her options were fairly limited, in the end. Hermione refused to back any further than the fall of Voldemort. As much as she longed to save Draco from the darkness that destroyed his innocence, she knew that the smallest change could bring about an entirely different future. And she could not allow any chance for a future where Voldemort won the war and reigned supreme with an iron fist in the wizarding world.

The most logical timeframe would be immediately following the final battle, perhaps after they had all gone back to the burrow to shower and sleep. If she returned to that point in time, she could tell her younger self that she and Ron were not meant to be, that their relationship would utterly destroy her and that she should let him down very gently in the morning. Waiting any longer would only bring more undue pain to both of them, and perhaps doing it this way could salvage their once beautiful friendship.

That would be a blessing Hermione never dreamed of asking for.

Grabbing her wand from the pocket of her robe, Hermione shrank the bundle of letters down and slipped them into her pocket. Then she unraveled the time-turner, finally appreciating the delicate beauty of the piece. It looked antique and fragile and lovely. Oddly, it seemed absolutely perfect for her and she wondered if Draco had commissioned this piece with her in mind. If he hadn't, it was a rare find. Maybe the Fates decided he deserved this chance as well and led him to the completely perfect piece that could offer him everything he'd always wanted?

Hermione rolled her eyes at herself, she must be tired because she never chased such frivolous trains of thought. Mind made up, Hermione wetted her suddenly dry lips with her tongue and began to count. Once she finished calculating all the twists and turns needed, Hermione gave her surroundings one last long look. She no longer felt fear, instead, there was a sense of contentment. Like things were finally right, and the universe made sense again.

With a soft smile curving her lips and happy tears gathering in her eyes, Hermione took a deep breath and began the turns and twists, mouthing the count until she was lost in the dizzying turning spinning flow of time. Years flew by in reverse, while she stood frozen watching everything and nothing. Hermione had no way of knowing how long her journey took, only that when everything stopped spinning her bones felt heavier than they ever had before.

* * *

 _Endnotes_ : _I swear this is the last chapter I'm posting until further progress is made. I hope you liked it. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Did you guess what was in the pouch? Do you have any hopes regarding what our Hermione does? I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas._

 _Until next time, and with so much love, xo. - otterly_


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's notes_ _: Each of you, my darling readers, have blown my mind with your responses to this little story. I've been moved to tears on several separate occasions by all of this overwhelming kindness. Thank you. Thank you all so freaking much._

 _Lots of emotion over our Hermione hoping to salvage her friendship with Ron. I guess in my mind, even though he was a prick extraordinaire, this Ron has a chance to get the help he desperately needed in older Hermione's world and she hopes that he can be saved as well. In my mind, that feels damn near canon. Plus, I imagine a good majority of grief our older version experienced was from the loss of their magical friendship. If it could be saved, along with Ronald's fragile psyche, she would have to try, wouldn't she? No worries, my lovelies. If the redheaded douchebag doesn't get his shit together soon, Hermione 2.0 won't hesitate to hand over his marching orders. You have my word._

 _I do not own Harry Potter. JKR does. I just like to imagine a wizarding world where the couples make sense._

* * *

First, Hermione had to ensure she had traveled to the correct place in time. With that in mind, she tightened her fist around her wand and with a soft pop, apparated just outside the grounds of Hogwarts. She could tell that she was indeed where she was meant to be, even without opening her eyes. Magic was still heavily present in the air, and she had never forgotten the overwhelming stench of smoke and death that hung in the air like a heavy blanket.

Even so, Hermione opened her eyes and took the briefest look. Crumbled walls, scorched earth, body parts and gore. Enough to twist her stomach and make her apparate away as quickly as she could. She thanked her lucky stars that her sudden appearance went unacknowledged by the sleeping forms of Ginny Weasley and her younger self. She quietly cast a silencing charm around Ginny and wordlessly locked and warded the door before tiptoeing to her much younger self and shaking her gently.

"Hermione, wake up," she whispered gently. It wouldn't do to startle her, especially in her current state. The young Hermione groaned sleepily and shifted, but didn't open her eyes. "Hermione!" the older version whispered harshly while giving a slightly more forceful shake.

"Huh? Ginny?" the young Hemione mumbled, slowly blinking her tired eyes open.

"No, not Ginny. I promise on my magic, I'm not going to hurt you. Please don't scream. I'm only here to help you," the older witch soothed in a gentle voice.

The younger witch scrambled awake and dove frantically for her wand, and her older self grimaced in commiseration. Mere hours after the final battle, and some random old lady is accosting her in her sleep. She figured she better speak quickly, lest she ends up dead by her own, albeit much younger, hand.

"Hermione, please. I'm you. Look at me and you'll see it's true. I am you at sixty. I'm here to change your future for the better, I promise. I'd even be willing to take a wizard's oath if you need it. Just please don't kill or hex me before you hear what I have to say," she was begging without a care in the world. She needed this to work. She needed it more than she had ever needed anything before.

With her wand aimed directly between the older woman's eyes, the younger Hermione eyed the woman closely. Her graying mahogany hair was shoulder length, and flowing around a familiar heart-shaped face. There were lines and wrinkles that come along with age, but the lips and nose were the same. And then there were the eyes. Same shape, same coloring with thick, dark lashes framing them. Both shone with a hidden wealth of knowledge and carried a soulful pain that was easily recognizable.

"Tell me something only I would know," the young witch commanded in a fierce whisper.

"When you were thirteen, the neighbor boy Daniel attempted to win your favor all summer long. You were flattered but not really interested. After narrowly escaping his advances all summer, just before you were set to return to school, he cornered you in between your houses. His kiss reminded you of an overly eager puppy greeting someone new. You still shudder at the thought of wiping his slobber off your chin."

At the reminder, both Hermione's shivered in revulsion.

"Okay," the younger witch whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm at a loss for words at the moment. Why are you here? Why now? This is possibly the worst imaginable time for any kind of personal drama."

Older Hermione nodded sympathetically and pulled out the bundle from her pocket, wordlessly returning them to their proper size, "I know, Hermione. If I could give you more time to recover, I swear I would have. However, you don't have that much time before you'll need to testify on behalf of Draco Malfoy, and I thought it best if you have all the time you could to prepare."

Seeing the rising panic and indignation in the widening of her younger self's eyes, the older witch held up a hand to cut off her protests, "Look, we don't have much time and you need to hear everything. So as painful as I know what I'm asking you to do is, please don't interrupt me and I promise I'll answer all the questions I can. Please?"

The pair stared one another down in silence for several minutes, before the younger witch nodded her acceptance with a tight frown. The older Hermione took a deep, fortifying breath and began her tale. She didn't want to traumatize the girl, but she knew she had to make her understand how awful her current path would become. They cried together as she spoke of the children she'd lost, and how utterly broken Ron would leave them if given the chance. She wasn't cruel, she explained that Ron never really faced the trauma of the war, and instead rode on the heady wave of fame to achieve the things he wanted. It was hard to say no to Harry Potter's best friend, the man who helped defeat Voldemort and saved their world.

It made Ron demanding and entitled. He expected to get everything he wanted, no matter what the cost. It was hard for her to shatter her younger self's rose-colored thoughts of love and intimate companionship, but she knew it had to be done. If she could spare this version of herself the pain of losing everyone she truly loved and also manage to salvage the friendships that meant everything to her; as well as offer her a promising future with a deserving and remarkably lovely man, well then she had to give it everything she had, right?

She explained that she chose to come back to this specific moment in time because in the hard light of day, the morning after their first kiss - if she were to tell Ron that it had been a mistake, they both were in no place to start a new relationship. That may be later on, once they had both taken time to heal from what they'd suffered and lost - maybe then they could talk about something more. Well, she knew that Ron would still be vulnerable enough to understand what she was saying, and why she was saying it. Because Hermione truly did love him, and she knew they would escape their problems and issues with one another and in the end, it would end up hurting them both.

The older woman sighed before acknowledging that even if Ron understood her reasoning, there was no avoiding his temper. He would undoubtedly explode into a hurt fueled rage that would leave her feeling like the worst person who ever lived, but that her younger self had to realize that nothing he'll say is the truth. That it would, in fact, be better if she simply left when he started to scream, and save herself from harm.

Knowing instinctively that her younger self must be reeling in shock, the older Hermione held out the letters to her with a kind smile. She stumbled over her words, asking the girl to read them first, as it would help her understand why she was willing to cease to exist. Murmuring softly and gently patting her younger self's knee, older Hermione declared she deserved a chance at something incredible, and awe-inspiring, and all-encompassing. She deserved what she'd always dreamt of and she could have it if she was willing to see the truth and accept it for what it was.

And so it was with both their hearts in their throats, that young Hermione unbound the letters and began to read. The older witch felt lighter and lighter with each passing letter. She found herself fascinated by all her reactions, and wondered if she had looked the same. Most likely. She tried to guess what she discovered with each gasp, chuckle, sigh or sniffle. By the time she was finished and all of Draco's letters were cradled tenderly in her younger self's lap, the older witch was beginning to feel untethered to the mortal coil.

Much like tunnel vision, everything around her was growing dimmer by the moment and she knew her time was running out. Her younger self must be busy making decisions and fully altering the future, rendering this version of herself non-existent.

"I don't know what to say," she heard young Hermione murmur sadly. "This is all so gut-wrenching and I'm not sure I'm capable of making these kinds of decisions in my current state."

"I understand," the older woman rasped. She didn't have much longer, but she'd give everything she had left to try to help.

"It was really that miserable? Ron and I? He was so cruel that I ended loathing the thought of him touching me? And Draco - I, er, I really don't know what to say about all this. My heart is breaking for him, and it infuriates me. Even knowing what I do now, it hurts. I could've helped him. I know I could've. Even if only by being there for him. Ugh! You're me! You know all the doubts that were already plaguing me about Ron. It took hours for me to fall asleep because I couldn't decide whether or not what happened was a good thing or a bad thing. I love Ron, I do! But I can't help but think how many times he's already hurt me, with little thought nor care. And yes, he always apologizes but he shouldn't do the things he has to apologize for in the first place! And I allowed it, over and over again because I honestly believed I couldn't do any better. And it was Ron, my best friend and who could possibly be any more perfect than my best friend?

But to know, without a doubt that he's not it. He's not the one for me and never has been, it feels like a part of me is dying inside. I think I've always known, I just didn't want to believe it. So now I'll have to break his heart in the morning, and then royally piss him off when I offer to testify on behalf of Malfoy. Oh well, I'll have to settle in for who knows how many frosty months from him. I won't be able to stay here, either. Maybe a room at the Leaky -" her tirade cut off abruptly when then older witch grasped her wrist with one hand and quickly whipped the time-turner off from around her neck and dropped it into her open palm.

Slowly fading into nothingness before her, the older Hermione offered a rare bright smile to her younger self, "You're going to be fine, Hermione. You're strong and you know what you want, you just have to be willing to go after it. Don't waste your chance."

Hermione looked on, horrified, as her older self-disappeared. She left the heavy burden of responsibility and knowledge in her wake, and the young witch wasn't entirely sure what to with it all. First, she had to put an end to whatever Ron and she had begun. It stung bitterly, but she knew with a certainty that rang true to her very core that it was the right decision. Hermione really didn't want to hurt him and could only hope that she could soften the blow enough that it wouldn't end in hurtful words screamed at her retreating form.

And then there Draco. Er, Malfoy. Oh, Merlin's saggy sack, she was so bloody confused. Not even twelve hours ago she was locked in passionate snog with her best friend and considering a future with him. But now, now she twisted up in knots over the mere thought of Draco Malfoy. He was in love with her. Apparently, he had been for years. And if his letters were to be believed, would continue to be until his dying day. At age fifty-nine. Because he grieved and mourned so deeply it bled his magic dry.

The thought made her dizzy.

It was exactly the kind of passion and dedication and commitment that she'd always desperately longed for. It just so happened to come from the most unexpected and unwanted person she could possibly think of. Though after reading his apologies, and learning the truth behind his worst actions - Hermione found herself admiring his strength and courage. The loyalty and devotion to his mother and his willingness to sacrifice everything to keep her safe reminded her of herself and the way she removed herself from her parents' memories, sacrificing the two most important people in her world in order to keep them safe from harm.

They were similar in many ways, she realized. And really, she couldn't help but feel flattered by his words and earnest devotion. It hadn't been all that long for this Hermione since she would stare at him with a certain sense of longing. And he'd been nothing but a loathsome git at the time. Now? She wasn't sure how to feel. How was she supposed to face him, knowing everything she now knew? But she would have to. There was no way she could allow him to spend any time in Azkaban after knowing his story. Her conscience wouldn't allow it. And she had proof, written in his own hand, and entirely indisputable.

Explaining how and why she had them to Draco would be extremely tricky. Hermione found herself feeling oddly eager for that moment, however. And it was quickly followed by a wave of guilt because she had a traitorous heart and it was already beginning to long for someone other than the man she kissed mere hours ago. Heaving a weary and bone tired sigh, Hermione tenderly gathered the letters and tied them into a bundle and slipped them under her pillow. After staring at the time-turner in her hand for a rather long while, Hermione swallowed hard while looping it around her neck several times - ensuring the timepiece fell between her breasts and was hidden from view.

Hermione laid back against her pillow and closed her eyes, fighting to clear her mind of all her racing thoughts. Tomorrow would be the first of many painful days, and she desperately needed rest. In the morning, when the sun is shining, and they were all still breathing and living - it would be easier. The path would seem clearer.

She fell asleep to memories of silver eyes watching her, no malice burning within them at all - just curiosity and appreciation.

* * *

No matter how battle weary and exhausted the witch was, Hermione's brain was on overload and even while lost to slumber her mind was struggling to find solutions. Barely formed images lingered behind pale, lavender lids as Hermione tossed and turned. The older witch's story played on a loop, and her skin felt clammy and cold.

Ron. She didn't want to believe he was capable of the things her older self had warned her against. For the last few years, he'd been the center of her world. Hemione had easily been swept up in the notion that they were somehow meant to be together, and everyone seemed to think so. But she had to admit, when kissed her, that spark she had always imagined - something that would wash over her body and magic and leave her breathless and wanting - hadn't been present.

Their kiss was lovely, though. Perhaps a bit awkward, and his grip had bordered on bruising but in the heat of battle with adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, she couldn't really fault him for that, could she? Seeing him after it was all said and done, however, and the vacant yet somehow angry stare that took over once the tears stopped falling for Fred? Hermione shivered reflexively. And according to her future self, it would only get worse. At first, Ron would be glued to her side, unwilling to share her company with anyone.

The older woman had spoken softly when she admitted that at the time it felt lovely. She felt needed and wanted and never really considered how unhealthy it had been. Ron never wanted to talk about anything of importance, instead, he would pacify her with compliments and sweet nothings. The younger witch bristled at the thought of being so easily subdued by a few sweet words, but the more she thought about it the more she could see herself relenting in the wake of his pain.

That left her feeling uneasy. And it wasn't as if Hermione regretted their kiss, she just knew nothing more could come from it. Not now, when everything felt so fragile and uncertain. Slippery nightmares raced behind her closed lids, her subconscious giving her a birds-eye-view of the torture she was destined to suffer if she chose Ron.

Bright sunlight blinded her when she woke, gasping and sitting up straight, desperately trying to control the pounding of her heart. Wispy tendrils of hair were plastered to her face by the thin sheen of cold perspiration that covered her body. Hermione's body was stiff from the abuses of yesterday, and the past year if she were being brutally honest with herself. She was trembling and she knew it had little to do with war nor the casualties of it, somehow, someway, between the time she laid her head down to sleep and waking this morning - her entire world had changed. She felt the tilt, shift, and change.

Hermione now lived in a different orbit, off-axis and spinning madly out of her control.

* * *

 _Endnotes : I hope some of your questions have been answered and that you're still enjoying the journey. I'm sorry I haven't responded to any of your lovely reviews. I haven't been able to keep up. The sudden explosion of interest has my inbox overflowing and my mind boggled. Though I haven't responded, please know I have read each and every review. I'm humbled by your praise and your excitement feeds my own. Let me know your thoughts on the chapter? _

_Until next time, with so much love. xo - otterly_


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note : The love you all have sent my way - I'm speechless in the wake of it. I think I have the best readers ever. To TheMourningMadam (If you haven't read The Art of Divination and the Princess and the Pariah - I suggest you all run, don't walk - in fact, stampede like a herd of hippogriffs over to her profile and gobble up all the goodness. M'kay?) thank you for the chats and the way you've promoted this story. I'm humbled. To Trinkisme, your mood boards and sweet words have brought me so much joy. Thank you both, so much. _

_To each and every single one of you who have left a kind word in review - I adore you. I write for myself, but the joy I receive when reading your words of excitement and wishes for future chapters- it inspires me to do better and be better for each and every one of you. I haven't responded to a single review yet (well, with the exception of one and that reply was a rant on Tumblr) but PLEASE know, I read every single one and I've been moved to tears more than once in the face of such overwhelming kindness._

 _As always, I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, Dramione would be fucking canon. Ya heard?_

* * *

After hastily securing the precious bundle hidden under her pillow, Hermione staggered to the washroom. She needed to scrub her nightmares away. She made the shower hot, just beneath scalding, and when she finally stood beneath the soothing spray Hermione allowed her thoughts to drift to Draco.

Just like the night before, her mind seemed to stop and stutter for several long moments over everything she knew about him now. Those letters. What could she possibly say about those letters? It was surreal. On the eve of the final battle, these missives of apology, contrition, adoration, and love traveled through space and time to set her world aflame.

As Hermione massaged her sweet smelling shampoo into her scalp, her teeth dug into her bottom lip thoughtfully. She had seen Malfoy in the aftermath as well, huddled together with his parents against the far wall. Hermione had felt his gaze then, her skin tingled the entire time his eyes were on her. Unable to stop herself, she met his stare and lost herself for a moment.

Soot dirtied and dulled his usually luminescent hair and smudges of it marred the porcelain perfection of his face. He was thinner than she'd ever seen him and he had a manic look in his eyes, but otherwise seemed unharmed.

Hermione felt immense relief at that thought, though she refused to dwell on why she felt that way. Her cheeks heated under his intense gaze and she had to blink away, only for her eyes to land on a group of Aurors heading towards the Malfoys with purpose. She had no desire to watch them be taken into custody, so Hermione turned away from the scene offering them what little privacy she could.

After rinsing the long curls of her conditioner, Hermione realized she didn't like the desperation and desolation she'd seen in Malfoy's eyes before turning away. She scrubbed her skin until it was raw and stinging before finally stepping out of the shower. She knew she was putting off the inevitable and that she should face the future with grace and courage - but Hermione was scared. She was fairly certain today would be the worst day of her life.

* * *

Thanks to Ron's tendency be self-indulgent, Hermione had a few hours to make plans for herself and get her things in order. Molly had just served up lunch, grief not outweighing the matronly woman's need to care for her family, when he finally made his appearance. Harry and Ginny had yet to heed the call for food, off reacquainting themselves with one another, no doubt - and Hermione yearned for their buffering presence.

Ron moved behind her and swept some of her long curls off her shoulder to place a kiss there and she felt her stomach twist. She offered him a strained smile before taking a bit of the delicious vegetable soup Molly prepared and cursed inwardly when his blue eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong?" he demanded gruffly. Her stomach churned.

"Nothing's wrong," her voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

"Hermione," the look he gave her showed he wasn't buying her deflection and his tone was a warning. "I'm not in the mood to be lied to. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She bristled, displeased with both the way and the manner he spoke to her. Hermione straightened her spin and raised her chin before speaking, "I spent most of last night thinking…"

"No surprise there," Ron grumbled, his face darkening.

"As I was saying," Hermione sighed and shrugged off a sense of foreboding. "I thought a lot about what happened between us during the battle and Ron, I don't think right now is the best time to start something new. We're all going to have so much weighing against us and - and - I can't."

Hermione stared at the table unwilling to meet his eyes and silence stretched around them for an infinite moment before Ron lost it.

"You just," he threw a hand out in front himself carelessly, "decided."

Hermione nodded, meeting his gaze warily.

"Didn't think to include me in the decision-making process at all then?" Ron seethed, working his jaw angrily.

"It was one kiss, Ronald." Hermione was angered by his reaction but tried to sound soothing and conciliatory. "And believe it or not, I'm actually doing this for us both. We need to start to heal from all the chaos we've survived before we dive headlong into something as fragile as a new relationship."

"Really, Hermione?!" He yelled before catching himself and forcibly lowering his voice. "You want to ignore the cat and mouse game we've been playing for the last few years now? All of a sudden, after I finally, finally make a move - you've decided it's no longer a good idea?"

"I'm sorry," she murmured. What else could she say? Eventually, he'd see the truth of her words and hopefully then he'd understand.

"So that's it?" His face was mottled red with rage and she could see the betrayal and anger burning in his eyes.

"I sent a Patronus to McGonagall earlier. I had a feeling this wouldn't go over very well, so I offered my assistance in rebuilding and restoring if I could have access to room and board. She agreed almost instantly, so you won't have put up with me while sorting through your own emotions. I'll explain it to everyone individually after lunch. I don't want to hurt you, Ronald. I don't want hurt anyone. I hope eventually you can see that."

* * *

It didn't get any easier. No one understood why Hermione needed to leave. While there was a sense of understanding in regards to her relationship, or lack thereof, with Ron; everyone tried to talk her out of leaving the Burrow. How was she to explain that she needed time away to come to terms with everything? No one knew about the paradox her older self had caused, no one knew that Hermione held more than just her own fate in the palm of her hand.

Decisions need to be made. Feelings need to be obsessed over. Hermione needed quiet and the solitude. It was the best thing for a hyperactive mind. So she had bidden her goodbyes, with promises to write and check-in and come for Sunday dinner as often as she was able and left, taking the first steps towards a surprising and uncertain future.

* * *

Several weeks passed and Hermione found herself an unlikely ally in her cause to save Malfoy in Harry. Draco's actions when they were brought to Malfoy Manor offered Harry a glimpse of Draco he'd never been privy to before. He told Hermione after witnessing the way Malfoy struggled that night in the Astronomy tower, he knew he'd judged his childhood rival too harshly.

"I was livid at first, 'Mione. I wanted his blood. That angry," Harry's face was haunted and Hermione nodded woodenly, silently encouraging him to continue. "But then I saw his face. _Merlin_ , Hermione. He was shaking and crying and screaming at Dumbledore that he never wanted any of it. And I believe him, you know? Malfoy told him he didn't have a choice, that Voldemort would kill him. That he would kill his mother and, I swear to you Hermione, the way his voice broke on the word _Mother_ …" Harry shook his head morosely.

"I think I finally understood Malfoy that night."

* * *

The pair had written Kingsley Shacklebolt, the newly appointed Minister of Magic, about testifying on Draco's behalf. It was then that Harry informed Hermione that he would also be testifying for Narcissa, without her lying to her Dark Lord, he said, Voldemort would have won. The fact that Narcissa had done so out of love and concern for Draco, warmed Hermione's heart. His life had been dark and troubled but she found herself tremendously relieved that Draco had known the tender joy of a mother's love.

Harry had pleaded with Ron to act with them, even if he only offered his memories of the night they were caught by the snatchers, but Ron had refused. Still violently angry with Hermione and having never been a fan of the Malfoys in general, Ron had declined to help with a malevolent sort of glee that bothered both Harry and Hermione. Harry confided in her that he thought she made the right choice, Ron's anger and self-destructive behavior had already begun to be burdensome and disturbing. He refused to talk about anything had taken to sneaking off for days at a time with no explanation upon return.

When the pair received Kingsley's response, he commended them for their ability to leave the past in the past and gave them the dates for the Malfoy's trials. The minister used their correspondence to offer all three of them (Harry, Ron, and Hermione) spots within the Auror Academy. They could begin immediately following their acceptance of the offer, though Kingsley assured them he wouldn't hold it against them if they wanted to take a little time for themselves first. Harry was over the moon with his dream of being an Auror coming true right before his very eyes, and Hermione was exceedingly happy for him in turn.

The raven-haired wizard told her that Ronald was thrilled as well, and his emerald eyes glittered with glee at the thought of the three of them working together to rid the world of dark wizards for the rest of their lives. Hermione had gripped his much larger hands in her own, pausing only for a moment to wonder when had they begun to swallow her much tinier ones, and gently explained that she had no desire to chase after any more dark wizards.

"One was more than enough for me, Harry."

He'd tried arguing, but only for a few moments. Harry knew Hermione better than anyone else in her life, and he understood the thrill of chasing bad guys and the lure of danger wasn't something that appealed to the petite and kind witch. Hermione wanted to change the world, she wanted to help make it a better place for everyone and everything. Not just witches and wizards, but all creatures big and small. It was impossible not to admire that and that made it easier to accept her choice.

"So what will you do then? If Ron and I go to the academy you'll be left all alone," His concern was so sweet and thoughtful, Hermione had launched herself at him and clutched him to her desperately.

"I won't be alone, Harry. I plan to finish school and sit my N.E.W.T.'s. Regardless of what I choose to do following graduation, I'll need those scores. It's never really been a question for me. I'm happy for you and Ron, though. Just keep a close eye on him, Harry."

* * *

The days seemed to speed by, a blur of helping others rebuild Hogwarts in the wake of the final battles destruction. Hermione found it cathartic and healing and knew she had made the best decision possible for her. Somehow, the day of Draco's trail had crept up on her and she was certain she'd never felt so nervous or as intimidated as she did waiting outside the heavy oak doors separating her from the esteemed members of the Wizengamot, Draco and those who had come to bear witness.

Harry had already been called in, which left Hermione alone to nervously smooth imaginary wrinkles from her outfit. The witch had agonized over what to wear for the longest time, wanting to appear adult and respectful, but she also wanted to look pretty. If things went her way, she hoped to speak with Malfoy after. They had so many things to discuss, after all.

Hermione had settled on a white peplum-style top with capped sleeves and eyelet lace accents and a black pencil skirt. A thin ribbon of black satin nipped in the waist, before belling outward, it felt dignified and romantic. Paired with black kitten heels, Hermione was convinced she looked the part. It did nothing for her nerves, sadly. She had no idea what to expect once she walked through those doors and she could only hope that her presence might bring Malfoy some comfort.

The thought of Draco had Hermione pulling his letters from her ever-faithful beaded bag, clutching them protectively to her chest. She had no time to dwell, however, because at that moment a stout, balding wizard was holding the door open and calling her name.

* * *

 _Endnotes : The wait is nearly over, my lovelies. Draco. Next chapter. _

_Shall I squee with you?_

 _xx - otterly_


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note_ : _No witticisms today. I'm currently in a daze thanks to a certain Madam sharing utterly delicious photos with me on Tumblr. Therefore, my brain is lusty mush. As always, thank you all so very much for all the love. I'm beyond blessed to have you as readers._

 _I do not own Harry Potter._

* * *

All of Hermione's preparation seemed to dissipate at that moment, and she stared resolutely at her shoes, following the balding man to the wooden riser where she would offer her testimony. The young witch couldn't bring herself to look at Malfoy, but her skin prickled with awareness and she knew his eyes were solely on her. Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, Hermione raised her eyes to take in the members of the Wizengamot.

Most were staring at her passively; seemingly bored with presence. A few others looked somewhat intrigued, and a small minority seemed openly hostile. Lovely.

Kingsley was there and offered her a small smile of encouragement.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot," Hermione paused to clear her throat nervously, feeling the weight of it all settle on her shoulders. She was here to fight for a man's freedom. A man who loved her, apparently. No pressure, right? "I'm here today to speak on behalf of Draco Malfoy." Hermione watched with growing trepidation as several pairs of eyes narrowed and had to remind herself to breathe. She'd faced much more terrifying things. Deep breath. Be brave.

"I'm well aware of Mr. Malfoy's past transgressions," a wry smirk twisted her lips. "I know his reputation precedes him and I'm worried because of that, you - honorable members of the Wizengamot - might not fully appreciate the full extent of Mr. Malfoy's plight. I'm here today to argue that Draco Malfoy was manipulated and controlled much in the same manner as those who suffer under the Imperius curse. I wholeheartedly believe Draco would have chosen a different path for himself if he could, however, once his father went to Azkaban that left only Draco to look after his Mother while Voldemort took control of his childhood home."

Hermione paused, her eyes staring straight forward but trapped in her thoughts and memories. Swallowing thickly, she refocused enough to continue, but her voice was thick with emotion, "He was just a boy. That's the worst part of all of this. Most of us caught up in this war were children. And Draco Malfoy was forced to make a choice. He could refuse of course, but to do so would not only mean his death, but his mother's as well. I'm quite sure we can all imagine what kind of hell Voldemort would have promised should he refuse. I can't imagine anyone behaving any differently than Draco did. It's also prudent to point out that Malfoy was the one ordered to kill Albus Dumbledore, but he didn't. He couldn't, as I'm sure you're aware following Mr. Potter's testimony. Draco Malfoy isn't a killer. He was a boy in an impossible situation, given no choice, with no hope for a way out."

She longed to look at him, to see his reaction to her words as well as to show him her sincerity. She couldn't bring herself to do so, however. Instead, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, trying to exude a strength she didn't currently feel, "I have personally witnessed Draco Malfoy's reticence against the Dark Lord. When snatchers caught me, Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter and took us to Malfoy Manor, Draco was who they called to identify us. I will never forget the horror on his face to see us there, and as he looked at us, I knew he was trying to figure a way out. He told his father and aunt that he couldn't be sure. It wasn't much, but enough to cast doubt. He'd gone to school with us for six years; if he were hesitant to identify us, obviously the adults would be, too. And while his aunt tortured me for information," Hermione's words cut off at a hissed intake of breath to her left. Unable to stop herself, Hermione glanced over her shoulder and met his pained expression with an apologetic grimace of her own.

There was a world of emotion swirling inside his mercurial gaze, and she had to close her eyes to avoid getting lost in it. When she turned to face the ones who held his fate in their hands, her commanding voice had softened noticeably. "While Draco's aunt tortured me, it his apologetic and horrified gaze that kept me sane. He never blinked, not once, the entire time I had my eyes on him. It helped, you know?" Once again, she was in her memories. "And before anyone tries to use his lack of action during my torture against him, please understand that there was nothing he could do - not without signing his death warrant as well as his mother and father's."

Hermione sighed, trying to gather her thoughts once more and capitalizing on her momentary silence a stern looking wizard, with a hook nose reminiscent of Severus Snape spoke rather harshly, "As touching as this," he waved in her general direction and then towards Draco. "There's not much you're telling us that we haven't already heard. And the majority of it is hearsay, on your part."

"You're right," Hermione acknowledged with a nod. "But I also hand-written letters from Draco Malfoy himself that show his reluctance, hesitation, and misery over the entire situation."

The silence in the room was stifling, and Hermione forced her eyes to stay focused on the witches and wizards seated before her and not on the blonde whose current stare burned against the back of her neck.

"Mr. Malfoy sent these to you?" shock is evident in his tone.

Hermione's eyes tightened infinitesimally; she wouldn't be lying - not entirely nor technically - Draco Malfoy had sent her the letters. She'd leave out the part that he sent them in an alternate universe and only after his death.

"Yes," Hermione's voice rang with honesty, and she smiled, happy her voice didn't waver as it was known to do when she pushed the limits of the truth.

"And you're willing to share them with those of us here, to prove your claims?" Kingsley spoke up, a deep furrow between his brows.

"Yes," her voice was barely above a whisper. "Yes, I am," she repeated, her voice gaining strength. "Some of them are of a personal nature, and I have to offer my apologies to Draco for exposing him in such a way, but if it might help him - well, that's what's most important to me."

* * *

Hermione had handed over the bundle of precious letters and filtered out of the room after their dismissal while they overlooked the new evidence. She rushed down the hall towards the loo, needing a few moments to breathe and collect herself. What had she done? And would it be enough? Her heels echoed against the linoleum floors as the witch rushed to the nearest sink. A few splashes of cold water against her overheated skin had Hermione feeling slightly more human.

That is until the sound of another set of heels and a soft cough brought her eyes up to the mirror, immediately searching out the source. Narcissa Malfoy stood several feet behind her, a small, genuine smile brightening her already beautiful features. Her trial had gone well, Harry's testimony softening many opinions of Lady Malfoy. Five years probation, a trace and whole bunch of community service, that was her fate. Many thought it was too light, which worried Hermione that the ministry would be more inclined to punish Draco more harshly regarding the public outcry.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione greeted, turning to face her full on and with a growing uncertainty with which she was unaccustomed.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa replied smoothly. "I'm sorry for following you in here, I only wanted to thank you. For what you're doing for Draco. It means more to me than you could ever understand."

Lost for words and feeling slightly light-headed, Hermione nodded and offered some semblance of a smile, "Really, Mrs. Malfoy, it was nothing. I meant every word. He doesn't deserve any of this. I can only hope the Wizengamot agrees."

Narcissa reached forward, grasping Hermione's forearms in an awkward sort-of embrace, and whispered fervently, "Thank you."

It was just another incredible moment of an utterly unbelievable day.

* * *

The Wizengamot returned her letters.

And after a long speech, praising the ministry and all its wisdom and kindness, Draco Malfoy was issued a full pardon. The Wizengamot took in all the evidence and testimonies and felt that as a minor under extreme duress, they could not pass judgment on his actions. He was only guilty of being a scared child, desperate to protect his family. Something that would otherwise be seen as entirely honorable, if in any other circumstance.

Shock spread through the chamber. Hermione and Harry, who had spoken earlier and watched her testimony, shared a knowing look and stood to leave at the same time. Harry placed his hand on her lower back and took a step closer when they noticed a few sneers sent Hermione's way. The air was thick with tension, and Hermione couldn't help but steal a passing glance towards Draco. She was blessed with the visage of his restraints being removed moments before his mother flew into his arms, crushing him in a tight and motherly embrace.

A small smile tipped her lips skyward as Harry lead her from the crowded chamber, a tidal wave of relief crashing over her now that she knew Malfoy was safe from rotting in a cell for things beyond his control. Hermione followed Harry's lead, pressing through the crowded ministry halls towards the main atrium and the floo. They were quiet, but Hermione could tell Harry was pleased with the outcome as much as she was. Just as they were to enter the main atrium, a voice called out over the din of hundreds of people passing by, "Granger!"

Hermione's steps faltered, and her wide amber eyes snapped to Harry's - panic etched across her face. He only offered a one-shouldered shrug before looking back, and she followed his lead. Her eyes immediately sought out the shock of pale blonde hair, weaving in and out of the crowd and headed straight for them. Narcissa was following him, at a much less frantic pace. Hermione's stomach flipped as he came to a stop a few feet away from them.

"Potter," Draco acknowledged but kept his narrowed gaze on Hermione.

"Malfoy," Harry returned with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Granger," Draco drawled dropping his eyes to the letters she still held cradled to her chest, and they narrowed further.

"Malfoy," Hermione murmured before tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Congratulations," she offered weakly.

"What?" He met her eyes once again, looking lost and more than a little confused. "Oh, right. Yes, thank you. In fact, thank you both. I'm not sure why either of you did all that, but I'm man enough to realize it's most likely what kept me from prison. So…" he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Thank you."

Harry's amusement bloomed into a full smirk, but Hermione just studied his every movement, silent and contemplative. They held one another's gaze for a moment, a million questions hanging in the air before Harry spoke and broke the trance.

"Not a problem, Malfoy."

"We only told the truth," Hermione added a dismissive shrug. She refused to be affected by his mere presence. Not Hermione Granger. No. Certainly not.

With another careful look, Malfoy nodded.

Harry turned them once more, directing them both to the nearest floo. Hermione glanced over her shoulder, her curiosity outweighing her self-preservation, and found his eyes still on her. Draco stood there, his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets with an utterly vulnerable expression on his face watching her walk away. Her heart gave a painful thump as his swirling-silver eyes met her amber gaze, and his face quickly smoothed to blankness.

"I'm onto you, Malfoy," she whispered under her breath when Harry nudged her forward and held out a bag of floo powder. His swirling silver gaze lingered in her mind's eye as the swirling green flames carried her away.

* * *

 _Endnotes: Meep._

 _xx - otterly_


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note : You guys! OMFG, not only have you carried this story over three hundred reviews (what the actual fuck?!) I've now had the incredible opportunity to place faces and names from the Strictly Dramione facebook group and I'm just...squee! Before I let you go, because I know I'd be more than eager to read at this point, I wanted to tell you all: Later today a new story will be posted on the profile MadamAndOtter called Ablaze With Color. It's a soul-mate fic with a twist and we're really, really excited about it. TheMourningMadam and I, that is. Hopefully, you all will be too!_

 _As always, I don't own Harry Potter. Just this plot. And I guess I can claim my version of Draco, right?_

* * *

 _Draco,_

 _I felt compelled to write the moment I returned from the ministry. I do not doubt that you're probably confused and perhaps even angry at what all transpired today. Understandably so. And given that, I knew I must try to alleviate that burden in some way._

 _First, I want you to know that I don't hold any grudge against you. I meant every word I spoke today, Malfoy. And I'd like to think I felt that way before I came into possession of your letters. I won't deny that you've been an incorrigible prat nor that your past behavior hurt me, but I understand. I don't think it was ever your choice._

 _I imagine you're quite curious as to how I have your letters, and I promise I will tell you, but I fear that's a conversation best-held face to face. Please don't be angry; I'm not saying this to spite you. It's a little unbelievable, even to me. You have my word, Draco. I will explain everything, soon._

 _I'm afraid I don't know what to say - your letters were eloquent and beautiful, and I feel woefully inadequate in comparison. I'm so sorry you had to suffer alone for so long, Draco. I wish you had shared your letters with me yourself if only because I could have been your lifeline had I known. No one deserves to be left alone with monsters._

 _I've returned to Hogwarts, helping rebuild and restore in exchange for room and board until the school year begins. When you feel ready to discuss everything, you know where to find me. I do hope you return to complete your education, Malfoy. I think you're much too brilliant not to, and it would be such a waste. Besides, what would I do without our constant competition?_

 _I look forward to seeing you, Malfoy. Somewhat disconcerting, writing those words. Never-the-less, I mean them._

 _Please take care of yourself._

 _Yours,_

 _Hermione Granger_

It took every ounce of courage Hermione held within, to send off her missive to Draco. She obsessed over each and every word with painful diligence. And while she didn't expect an immediate reply, after several days passed and still no response, she found herself in a melancholy mood. Had it all been too much? Had she frightened him? A week passed. Then two.

What if he never wished to speak to her again?

Stubbornly shaking away those perversive thoughts, Hermione nibbled a piece of toast and sipped a cup of strong tea before starting her day. Her eyes continued to drift to her post window, desperately wishing to see an owl waiting, but once again she was left disappointed. Heaving a heavy sigh, the witch moved from her small kitchenette and fell into an overstuffed chair by the fire. Returning as an eighth year had one lovely perk, individual chambers that resembled flats instead of sharing the dormitories with the younger students.

Hermione was grateful for the peace and quiet of solitude. Too many times, memories would overwhelm her and send her into a fit of tears. It was glorious to have a space of her own that she could run to and hide away if she needed. And after the headmistress had witnessed her favorite pupil break down several times, she gently pulled her aside and asked her to lead the efforts in restoring the library to its former glory. Hermione had balked at first, not willing to appear weak, but with McGonagall's gentle persuasion finally acquiesced.

It made a world of difference. Hermione hadn't seen the battle in the library, so she had no real traumatizing memories in regards to her favorite place in the world. Her heart had lurched when she first laid eyes on the destruction, but the tears that she shed upon first sight were vastly different from those of watching loved ones fall in the heat of battle. She threw herself, heart and soul, into rebuilding the broken bits, salvaging and repairing the many books that littered the floor - torn and tattered, in hopes that it could continue to be a place of respite for many generations to come. The library was her only distraction from the thoughts and concerns that plagued her relentlessly.

When her eyes slid to the window once more, Hermione stood with a growl and crossed the common room to her door. She would not sit by the window and pine for something she never had. The young witch would return to the library and lose herself in work. Whether Draco Malfoy wrote back or not, she had a job to do.

The hours spun away as Hermione worked, but she didn't mind. It was a labor of love. Broken shelves were mended. Rubble and litter were cleared. By the time Hermione began working on repairing severely damaged books she had a smudge of dirt on her nose, and her curls were falling out of her plait at a rapid pace. She paid it no mind, the library still relatively quiet in comparison to other places in need of repair in the castle.

An ancient copy of Most Potente Potions had nearly been obliterated during the fight, but Hermione worked furiously over it - piecing it back together, page by page, with utmost care.

"I do believe you're working on one of my favorite books, Granger," that familiar drawl shattered the silence and Hermione spun, wide-eyed towards the sound. "Gods, Malfoy!" she gasped while her hand flew to her chest, willing her racing heart to slow. "You scared me," she finished lamely, narrowing her eyes at his bemused smirk. Draco stood a few feet away, hands in pockets and eyes trained on the book behind her.

Hermione couldn't help but drink in the sight of him, still too thin but much improved compared to when she saw him last. The tips of his ears were tinged pink, along with his cheeks and Hermione had to press her lips together to hide a grin. For a brief moment in time, Hermione Granger had the upper-hand. It didn't really help matters, however, seeing as her mental faculties seemingly deserted her when facing him.

Twisting her fingers together while Draco rocked on his heels, Hermione was acutely aware of each second their awkward silence stretched on. What exactly was she supposed to say? 'Oh hi, Malfoy. I know one of your deepest, darkest secrets because an older version of myself appeared the night of the final battle and gave me all your letters. You died of a broken heart, and we couldn't allow that to happen. My future was apparently very bleak, enough to risk everything and travel through time to keep me from making the same mistakes. I think you may have stolen my heart. And it terrifies me.'

In the end, she settled for, "You look better."

Finally, his silver eyes rose to meet her amber gaze, looking for sincerity. Finding no deceit in her open countenance, his smirk transformed into a bashful, yet pleased grin. Turning his attention to the supple leather of his shoes, Draco murmured a soft, "Thank you."

Hermione hummed in response, stunned by the sight of Draco Malfoy smiling at something she said. Leaning back with her palms flat against the table, the young witch took a steadying breath. "So, what brings you here?"

Expelling a short breath, Draco ran a hand nervously through his hair. With a shrug, he looked up at her with guarded eyes, "You told me where to find you."

"So I did," Hermione muttered, feeling her cheeks heat under his scrutiny. "This is painfully awkward, isn't it?"

"Just a bit," he deadpanned, and she smiled in response.

"I'm sure you have a million questions, Malfoy. And I'll try to answer them to the best of my abilities," her smile turned mischevious as she eyed him. "But you'll need to earn it."

Pale brows shot to his hairline, as a slow smirk spread across Draco's lips. "Really?" amusement warmed his voice. "And what did you have in mind, Granger?" he whispered and his eyes smoldered beneath his thick lashes.

Hermione's lips parted under his heavy gaze before she licked her lips nervously, and swept her arm out at the destruction around them. "I'm the only one really working in here right now, and I guess, I thought we could get to know one another while we worked? Maybe it won't be as uncomfortable if we understand one another better."

"That surprisingly manipulative of you, Granger," Draco drawled, even as he surveyed the remains of the library. He narrowed his eyes at the curly-haired witch in front of him and pursed his lips, "So I'm supposed to ignore the fact that you somehow have possession of incredibly embarrassing and private letters of mine and get to know you while helping fix this mess?"

Draco tilted his head to the side and his brows lowered, "Doesn't seem very fair."

Hermione only chuckled in response, "Hasn't anyone ever told you life isn't fair, Draco?"

His spine straightened, and he swallowed thickly, unaccustomed to hearing his name falling from her lips. She watched him fight some sort of internal battle and worried that he might get upset and walk away, and was pleasantly surprised when he moved to the opposite side of the table. Draco took the next book from the pile, lifted his eyes to hers for a moment before beginning to stitch the tome back together.

Hermione followed his lead, returning her attention to the forgotten potions book. The only sound was the turning of the pages and their breathing for the longest time until, "I'm surprised Weasley isn't attached to your hip, Granger. Last I saw you both, he couldn't keep his hands off you."

Hermione blinked up at him, noting the flush that once again painted his cheeks. She found it overwhelmingly endearing. "Ah, yes. That, er, him." Sighing, Hermione rolled her eyes, "It didn't work out."

She felt his eyes on her but steadfastly refused to meet his gaze.

Watching her through hooded eyes, Draco licked his lips before nodding, "Interesting."

Hermione grimaced, feeling exposed and vulnerable. She hadn't left Ron for Draco, it just so happened to be tied up in the mess of this alternate reality she'd found herself stuck in. Though, if the witch were to be entirely truthful, his letters had soothed the ache following the death of her romance with Ron. His words resonated within her very soul, something she'd never experienced before.

Draco had poured his heart out in his missives. His emotions were honest and raw, and Hermione had been ill-prepared when discovering them. He slipped through her defenses after the first letter and immediately took up respite in heart and thoughts. She genuinely cared for the man standing across from her, and if everything she learned had been the truth, he was in love with her.

"He wasn't good enough for you anyway," Draco muttered a few minutes later, and Hermione bit her bottom lip in response.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, turning her full attention to the blond wizard across from her. Draco met her stare before raising a brow and smirking.

"Weasel has a chip on his shoulder, Granger. He spent years in your and Potter's shadow and was ridiculously jealous of both of you. He longs for notoriety and recognition but isn't willing to put in the work to achieve his means." Draco's face darkened briefly, and he turned inward. "Not to mention he used you for years and hurt you repeatedly. Doesn't bode well for a future relationship in my opinion."

Hermione blinked, mouth falling open in shock. Draco glanced up and chuckled at her expression, bemused smirk firmly in place. The witch closed her mouth and crossed her arms, his spot on observations shaking her confidence. Opening her mouth to respond, Draco met her eye once again and cut her off.

"He wouldn't challenge you. He couldn't offer you intellectually stimulating conversation, or stimulating conversation of any kind, really. You would've been bored senseless within six months. Even if his romantic capabilities were impressive, it could only mask that for a little while. You would've both ended up miserable, so, seems to me like you narrowly avoided disaster once again, Granger."

"Maybe so," Hermione murmured, as a haunted vacancy stole over her eyes. Draco watched her for a moment, concern creasing his brow. "I meant no offense, Granger," his voice was sincere and earnest.

Shaking her head to clear away her negative thoughts, Hermione offered him a weak smile, "None taken. Just, the truth hurts, I guess?"

They held one another's stare for several rapid beats of their hearts before Draco lowered his eyes and spoke quietly, "Yeah. Sorry."

The ease with which his apology rolled off his lips warmed Hermione's heart.

"No worries, Draco," she said, her smile brightening and turning genuine. His answering smile stole the breath from her lungs and left her desperate to be the cause of it once more.

* * *

 _Endnotes : So...that happened. _

_Please review? Next chapter: We see things from Draco's point of view._


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's note: I'm so sorry this update took so long. I had most of it written for the longest time, but I fell ill and afterward, it refused to come to me. Thankfully, it was only a brief bout of writer's block and I'm able to give you something I feel proud of. I'm hopeful that you'll enjoy a peek at Draco's side of things. We'll probably hear from him every now and again. I received a question regarding vertiaserum before the testimonies and I wanted to confirm that Hermione's odd behavior regarding her 'white lie' is because of that and the fact that she knows she doesn't lie well._

 _While I have you here, I would like to urge you all to go check out Broken Feathers; by Naarna. She has a gorgeous way with words and I really do think you'll enjoy her unique story and nearly flawless writing. Also, don't forget that TheMourningMadam and I have a new collaboration called Ablaze With Color. You can find it under the profile MadameAndOtter._

 _As always, I do not own Harry Potter. I will make no money from this story, I take payment in the form of tears, laughs, and sighs. A pretty good deal, if you ask me._

* * *

Draco was hallucinating. That was the only explanation for the situation he found himself in. Harry Potter had just spoken on his behalf, charming the members of the Wizengamot with ease. Draco had watched in fascinated horror, as Potter spoke of the night on the Astronomy tower and then the fateful evening spent at Malfoy Manor.

A shudder of revulsion rippled down his spine, and his gut clenched nauseatingly. He tried his best not to think of that night, but it made no difference. He still saw it every night, in his dreams. Draco had tried to maintain his stoic and indifferent expression, but the shame that washed over him was impossible to hide.

Relief spread through him as Potter stepped down to join the spectators, short-lived as it was. Because the doors were opening again and the world stopped spinning briefly. Hermione Granger strolled in, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Draco drank in the sight of her greedily.

She was glorious. Glorious and gorgeous and breathtaking.

And then she spoke.

And his heart simultaneously shattered and stitched itself back together.

Things he'd only ever dreamed of hearing her say, out there for all to hear. He was confident he looked dumbfounded and shook his head forcefully to clear his flustered thoughts. Draco's heart was beating fast, thudding against his ribcage with painful precision. He felt sure everyone could hear it.

Staring at Hermione's back as she spoke so passionately in regards to him, Draco felt dizzy. Her faith in him - bloody hell, she had _faith_ in _him_. He didn't know how to come to terms with that. His own eyes burned with tears he would never allow in such a public space when he heard the emotion in her own voice. He felt himself trembling, begging and pleading every deity he could think of for her to turn and allow him to see her expressive eyes.

But then she was talking about her time at Malfoy Manor, and he found himself in an entirely new kind of hell. Draco knew the nightmares would return tonight with a vengeance, but then the gods smiled down on him, and she turned. Her soft brown eyes held so much compassion and sincerity, Draco felt his breath hitch. He'd done nothing to deserve this witch standing up for him in such a matter. He longed to wrap her up in his arms, or lay at her feet and beg her forgiveness.

And then she mentioned the letters.

Draco nearly passed out.

Hermione tensed, his eyes were glued to her form, so Draco noticed immediately. The sour looking wizard had asked if he gave her the letters and he understood that she was bracing herself to lie. He most certainly hadn't sent her those letters. They were still locked away in under the false bottom of his nightstand drawer.

Draco was panicked. He felt sick to his stomach, and his palms were sweating. He stared at the bundle Hermione was handing over and had to grip the regal oak table he was seated at. If he didn't, he would surely lose his grip on his sanity. It was the ribbon. He'd purchased it himself because it was the exact shade she'd worn in fourth year.

How the bloody fuck did she have them?

Draco stared at the table after Hermione was dismissed, lost in a storm of troubled thoughts. But he couldn't shake the warmth Hermione's testimony had seared into his very bones. A tiny smirk, a shadow of his trademark one, curled his lips.

Hermione Granger cared about what happened to him. She cared for him.

Bleeding hell.

* * *

After their awkward encounter at the ministry, Draco had gone home with his mother a free man. He didn't know what to think about that. He felt he should be punished for his crimes. Needed to be, if he were honest.

Guilt drowned him. Grief tortured him. And Granger saved him.

Draco couldn't determine how he felt about that, either.

Imagine his surprise when an owl Draco was sure belonged to Hogwarts was waiting with a letter from none other than the brunette witch he owed everything. Her words soothed his damaged heart, and he couldn't stop his fingers from tracing the words. He could feel the lines her quill left behind, and he was baffled by even this small connection with Hermione. In his wildest dreams, Draco never imagined - never hoped to dream - that something like this could occur.

A new kind of terror struck him that moment. Hermione knew how he felt about her. She was reaching out to him. What did that mean? She was with the Weasel, and he fought a pained grimace at the thought. The red-headed git didn't deserve her. Draco didn't either, he knew that, but neither did Ronald fucking Weasley.

Would she taunt him? No. No, that wasn't Hermione, at all. She'd let him down gently, softly. All sweet concern and kindness he'd never offered her. And it would burn his world to ash.

Draco carefully folded her letter and slipped into his breast pocket before offering his mother a quick kiss on her cheek, excusing himself. He needed a day-long shower, a decent meal for the first time in months and sleep. He could drive himself crazy thinking about Hermione later. Draco shook off the sour feeling in his stomach at the guilt of not responding to her letter. As he stepped out of his trousers and pants, having shed his jacket and Oxford on the way to the bathroom, he resolved to block all thoughts.

When the hot water began to cascade down his muscular back, Draco sighed wistfully. He had to admit, as tears mixed with the water raining down on his body, it felt _so damn good_ to be home.

* * *

Draco spent the first week after his release in a daze. He slept a lot. He didn't leave his room except for meals. His first move after showering had been to open his nightstand and find the stack of letters he'd known would be there. They now rested atop it. No reason to hide it any longer.

Draco tried his best to ignore thoughts of her. He thought it best to carry on as he had before. Because if he put himself out there, only for a kind dismissal - well, he didn't know if he would survive it whole. Instead, he distracted himself as best he could, and slept. That worked for about two days, after that, Draco allowed himself to wallow in his memories - be them good or bad.

He genuinely abhorred the way he treated Granger all those years. Be that as it may, Draco could also admit he was addicted to riling her up. The way her eyes would brighten with anger or frustration, they'd look like glittering amber stones and never failed to leave him breathless. Her hair would puff up, magic sparking at the ends of her curls - he missed those riotous curls swirling with magical energy. They never failed to entrance him.

How many times had he lost one of their face-offs because he been struck mindless by her beauty and impossible wit? Too many to count, to be sure. Regardless, Draco would seek her out, time and time again because negative attention was attention all the same. He craved interaction with that feisty witch like an addict wanted their next fix.

The memories left him feeling hollow. Hollow and cold, so Draco stayed buried beneath his blankets with the drapes drawn, and a fire blazing from within the hearth. His chest ached with each recollection of the past, so many missed chances and opportunities. Draco wasn't stupid, far from it truthfully. He knew if he'd acted on any of his feelings before the war was won by the light, Draco would personally be signing both their death warrants.

Still, that knowledge offered him minimal comfort. Hermione Granger held his heart in her hands and had for several years. And he could count on one hand how many times he'd savored her brief touch. The first being when he snuck into the infirmary after she'd been petrified. Draco had held her stiff hand with his own and wept over her still form. Guilt and self-hatred like he'd never before experienced assaulted him repeatedly and he'd begged Granger in whispers between sobs to please wake up, please come back, and he'd assured her over and over again that he didn't mean it when he said he hoped this would happen to her.

Draco never wanted any harm to come to her. She was fascinating and infuriating and kind and honest. He'd never met a swottier individual, but somehow, with Granger, it was entirely endearing. The second being when he'd pushed her along after Potter and the Weasel as they all fled out of control friendfyre. Fear unlike any other had crippled him at that moment, the thought of losing her then in such a cruel and utterly horrifying manner caused him to stumble momentarily.

Granger had saved him then, pulling him up and along with them before Harry had helped him onto a broom and away from the carnage. Her hand wrapped tightly around his, leading him to safety was his happiest memory of life thus far. Sometimes if he closed his eyes and really concentrated he could still feel her hand in his and the warmth it had spread through his entire being.

Merlin's saggy sack, Granger knew now. She knew that he loved her and had been in love with her for years. The war was over, and nothing stood between them and happiness now other than his absolute fear of rejection. And rejection was inevitable, wasn't it?

Why would she ever give him a chance to woo her? Draco longed to court her, and to do so correctly. He dreamed of showering her with affection, carrying her bag as they held hands on the way class, studying with her in a secluded corner and learning every freckle and inch of her face as she read. Stealing her away to a hidden alcove and kissing her senseless because he couldn't go another moment without her lips on his.

Draco could see it all so clearly behind his closed lids and wished once again that it could be possible. Knowing it never would be was enough to send him down a spiraling dark hole of depression, one he had no inclination to leave anytime soon.

Narcissa Malfoy, in all her glory, marched into his room after his tenth day of seclusion. She stood at the foot of his bed, hands on her hips and pursed lips, staring him down with a calculating gaze. It didn't bode well for him. Groaning against his protesting muscles, Draco sat up and met his mother's eyes, his own face drawn and sullen.

Narcissa's shoulders slumped, and she moved to sit next to her son. She ran her dainty fingers through his soft locks, soothing him in a way only his mother could. Her eyes fell on the letters next to them, and she sighed, "Oh, my sweet Dragon."

"Mother," Draco cautioned. He was in no mood to talk about it.

"Don't take that tone with me, young man," Narcissa snapped, though her gentle touch negated any real threat. "What hurts you hurts me, love. I am capable of compassion, you know?"

"Sorry, mother," Draco murmured, feeling well and indeed chastised. "I know that I really do. I just -," his voice trailed off. He ducked his head and sighed.

"Don't know what to do?" his mother guessed. "Afraid of being rejected by the witch of your dreams, maybe?"

Draco stared incredulously at his mother, his mouth falling open. Narcissa gave a very unladylike snort of laughter, before arching a pale brow at her son. "Please, Draco. I've known you loved that muggle-born witch longer than you have. What I don't understand is why you've locked yourself away, instead of going to meet her after what she did for you. I'm a bit scandalized by your behavior, honestly."

Draco spluttered and pulled away from his mother, his voice hoarse and horrified, "Have you been snooping, Mother?"

"Of course not, my Dragon!" Narcissa was quick to reassure her son. "I believe I always knew. The way you would speak about her, Draco," her gentle chuckle caused his cheeks to warm, and he refused to meet her eyes. "Granger this, and Granger that." She lowered the timbre of her voice in an eerily accurate impersonation of her son, "Mother, you won't believe what Granger did this time!"

With a sigh, Narcissa let her mirth calm and returned to lovingly running her fingers through his soft, downy locks, "It changed after your third year at Hogwarts. When you'd speak of her then, there'd be a sparkle in your eyes. Just a glimmer of something, but I knew. And then any time your father would start off on one of his tangents...you did an excellent job of hiding it, love. But I'm your mother, and I know you better than you know yourself."

"But father -" Draco began only to have Narcissa hiss out a breath and cut him off. "No, Draco. I love your father, you know that. But he won't be getting out of Azkaban, and he no longer has power over you. I refuse to watch you live your life unhappily and unfulfilled. I just want you to live the life you deserve, my Dragon. A life filled with joy and love. Nothing else will do."

* * *

Nerves nearly won out, while Draco spoke with the Headmistress through the floo. The idea of returning to Hogwarts making his gut twist in a sickened sort of anticipation. But Granger had made Hogwarts home, and Draco knew if he returned early as well, they would be able to spend as much (or as little, his negative side reminded him) time together as they wished. Even if the witch only ever offered her friendship, he knew he would accept it wholeheartedly.

Holding any place in Hermione Granger's heart would help heal his darkened, fractured soul.

Draco wasted no time, he was packed and kissing his mother's forehead in farewell shortly after that.

It was time.

* * *

He was flustered. Draco Malfoy, the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune, was a blushing, bumbling fool in front of Hermione Granger. He found comfort in the fact that she seemed to be just as affected by his presence. There were so many questions he wanted to demand answers for, but the nervous way she fidgeted and worried her bottom lip kept him from doing so.

Granger had a smudge of ash or dirt on her nose, and he found it entirely distracting. Along with the way her pink petal tongue would slip out to wet her lips. Breathtaking. Wispy curls fluttered around her face, and he longed to brush them behind her ear. He managed to keep his hands to himself, just barely.

Hearing that the Weasel was no longer in the picture, Draco hadn't been aware there was a state of bliss such as this before. Tension melted from his person, and he felt he could finally take a normal breath once more. The ever present ache in his chest lessened, and when he smiled, Draco knew it was the most genuine it had been since before the war.

Working with her to repair something so crucial to both of them had him feeling dizzy with happiness. Yes, they were mostly silent as they worked but it was a companionable silence. All too often, people thought they had to ramble on about nothing of consequence - something that annoyed Draco to no end. Granger wasn't like that.

She'd look up at him every so often and grace him with a small but genuine and happy smile as she appraised his work before returning to her own. Each smile made his breath hitch, astounded that they were meant for him. Draco had only ever dreamed of being able to envoke such a response from this witch, and he knew without a doubt he'd do everything in his power to be able to continue to do so.

Their tranquil moment was shattered when a loud crack and several heavy thuds rang out and echoed around them. Hermione's panicked scream tore through him and before Draco realized he was moving, he was over the table and pulling her tiny, slightly trembling form behind him.

"Stay behind me, please," Draco pled quietly. His wand was steady and at the ready as his eyes rapidly searched for the threat, even though his heart was racing in fear. He would allow no harm to come to her, never again. Not when he could protect her.

Cowardice would never stay his hand again. Not when it came to Hermione.

A small hand clenched the fabric of his shirt and Draco could see Granger's wand in his peripheral vision. "Draco?" Her breaths were short and fast: his heart clenched knowing that she was frightened. After several long and tense minutes with nothing else occurring, he summoned what little courage he had and moved to find out what happened. Granger followed closely behind, and with a surge of warmth, he realized she was guarding his back.

They both let out a sigh of relief when they found the cause of the disturbance, one of the stone bookshelves had finally given way to the damage. Draco turned to face Granger, stowing his wand as he did so. All the color had drained from her gorgeous face, and her eyes were too bright and overly wide. Slowly, so not to startle her, Draco placed a gentle hand on her shoulder while his other tenderly cupped her cheek.

"Granger," he spoke softly, with a gentleness he wasn't entirely aware he was capable of. "It's okay. No one's here. It was just the shelf. We're alright, right?"

Granger blinked at him a few times, slowly processing it all before she nodded. "Right," she whispered shakily. "If I hadn't panicked I'd be tearing you a new one over how I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. As it is," Granger offered him a small, sheepish smile, "Thank you for that. I just - I froze up for a moment."

"It happens to all of us, Granger," Draco murmured, finally giving in to temptation and rubbing the smudge off her nose with his thumb. "And there's no need thank me, I only wish I had protected you when you needed it most."

Though it pained him to do so, he dropped his hands and took a step back. It was far too intimate, and Draco didn't want to make her uncomfortable and ruin any chance he might have to earn her friendship. "You still look too pale. Let's break for lunch now, we can finish when we return. Sound like a plan?"

Granger's answering smile and nod sent a thrill through him, and Draco found himself silently thanking his meddling, intrusive mother. He'd have to send her a gift soon, the woman could drive him utterly barmy, but her gentle encouragement had led him here. With Granger. Smiling because of him. At him.

His mother was a saint.

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 _Endnotes: I don't know when the next update will be, but I'm hoping to post at least weekly. Please let me know your thoughts on the chapter. I'm eager to know how each of you feels about our Draco. I'm quite smitten, myself._

Until next time, xx. - Otterly


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: Hello my darling readers! I'm so sorry for the length of my absence. I've been sick and battling a bout of depression, which unsurprisingly had disastrous effects on my writer's muse. But lo' and behold, I wake up this morning energized and ready to wage battle with my keyboard because I finally know how to make it happen. And of course, it's our darling Draco's 38th birthday today. So, in a way, it feels a bit like birthday magic and I just love it._

 _As always, I don't own Harry Potter. I just love two characters that never got a chance to be what they could be, and decided to say 'fuck it' and write something myself._

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Draco's patience had finally reached its limits. Every time he tried to bring up the letters, Granger artfully dodged his queries. Watching her demurely tip-toe around the subject was nearly as amusing and endearing as it was infuriating. She'd shutter her eyes and completely shut down each time he dared challenge her, which only served to expound upon his mounting dread. Draco dragged his hand through his hair, roughly tugging the ends to soothe his frustration.

"Initium novum," he muttered, even though a fond smile played upon his lips. _A new beginning_ was certainly apropos, he surmised. Quicksilver eyes scanned Hermione's common room, before Draco's brow furrowed. He'd been certain he'd find Granger curled up by the fire with a book in hand, much like he had every single day for the last two weeks. Moving further into her living quarters, the sound of running water reached his ears, and Draco realized Granger was in the shower. Naked.

With hurried steps, Draco made his way to Hermione's bookshelf, desperate for distraction. Becoming close to the brunette beauty was an ever-evolving form of exquisite torture. All the things that originally besotted him were still present and spending so much time with her had only lengthened his list of admirable qualities possessed by one Hermione Granger. Forcefully shaking his head to dispel those dangerous thoughts, Draco trailed his fingertips over the aged spines of Granger's books.

It did him no good to think about how beguiling she looked with a blush painting her cheeks. Or how her teeth would sink into her plump bottom lip when deep in thought. And then there was the sound of her laughter, made all the more entrancing because he'd been the one to pull it from her lovely lips. Grimacing at his thoughts, Draco's long, pale fingers paused over an ornate spine, emblazoned with the words ' _The Tale of the Silver Dragon.'_ A cheeky smirk brightened his face, and Draco pulled the book from the shelf, undeniably curious about the story hidden within its pages.

It was only then when the book weighed heavily within his grasp; the pale wizard realized something was off regarding the tome. Something shifted beneath the cover, and Draco scowled before cracking the book open. His mouth dropped open in shock at the discovery before him, ignoring the odd transfiguration of the pages that cradled the treasure within – Draco traced the sparkling chain with trembling fingers. What was Granger doing with a time-turner? With _this_ time-turner?

There was no mistaking the intrinsic design or overwhelming beauty of the piece. Draco would know, he'd stared at it in awed contemplation often enough. How had Granger come to possess a Malfoy family heirloom? Did have anything to do with the letters? If so, how and by what means had all of this come to pass? And how in the _bloody hell_ was Granger keeping it all to herself?

Collapsing heavily into one of Hermione's overstuffed chairs, Draco stared with unseeing eyes down at the time-turner, lost in a labyrinth of dark thoughts. He must have finally found the courage to use the blasted thing at some point in the future and visited Granger. Hot shame and mortification burned through his veins and Draco groaned, letting his head drop forward to meet his chin. No wonder Granger became so squirrelly whenever he tried to broach the subject. Had he thrown himself at her feet, declaring his undying love and affection for the witch? Did he toss the letters at her as proof of his feelings, most likely terrifying the poor thing beyond imagination?

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these sunken eyes and learn to see," Granger's unexpectedly gorgeous singing announced her arrival before she strolled into the room, "All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to be free. Blackbird fly…" her voice trailed off with a squeak as she became aware of his presence.

"Draco!" Granger's voice was shrill, and her mortification burned brightly on her pale cheeks. His pulse raced, just as it did every time his given name fell from her lips. "I wasn't expecting you," she murmured and ducked her chin. A surge of affection for her nearly overwhelmed him, but with what he held in his hands, Draco couldn't allow himself to be swept up in her adorable actions.

"Granger," even he was surprised by how cold he sounded. Hermione's wide, amber eyes flew to his – her lips pulled down in a frown. Keeping his face carefully blank was a struggle, but he must've managed because Granger searched his face and eyes before dropping her gaze to the book held in his hands. Her normal rosy complexion paled to a deathly white as her eyes shut with a muttered curse. Between the shock of finding Draco waiting for her and what he'd found in her absence, Granger had entirely abandoned drying her sodden curls and instead slowly dragged herself into the armchair across from the one he already occupied.

"I believe you owe me an explanation, Hermione."

Hermione was sure she resembled a deer frozen in the headlight of an oncoming vehicle. First and foremost, she never sang in front of anyone, besides her parents. The horror of being caught crooning mixed easily with the terror she felt upon noticing the time-turner out in the open for all eyes to see. She felt her mouth open and close several times, though no words could work their way past the lump in her throat. Hermione watched Draco's jaw work, clenching and unclenching as he continued to stare her down.

She had to applaud his herculean effort, for Draco had been more understanding and patient that she ever thought him capable. Hermione chewed her bottom lip nervously, struggling to find the words to make him understand, she never wanted to keep this from him. Not really. But every time she thought about spilling all her secrets, it seemed like an invisible force stole the words from her lips. Hermione startled, brought out of her scattered and shattered thoughts by Draco's thumb pulling her lip free from her punishing teeth. "Stop before you draw blood, Granger. Where did you get this time-turner? Please answer me."

Meeting his gaze was far harder than Hermione liked to admit, but when those mercurial eyes softened taking in her remorse and panic, she finally found herself telling him everything.

"The night after the final battle, after most made their way to the dormitories for rest, I went back to the Burrow with the Weasley's," her voice was soft and trembling. She loathed showing so much emotion, especially since she was so nervous and every effort to hide it was a failure. Twisting her hands to expunge some of the nervous energy, Hermione continued. "I was awakened by an older woman. It was a shock, and after waging battle only hours before, I was more than startled by some odd woman's presence over my bed."

Hermione watched as Draco swallowed thickly, confusion pulling his brows down low over his eyes. Before he could question anything, she hurriedly continued, knowing if she didn't come clean right now, she might bollocks it all up later. "It was me. Or, a future version of me," Hermione felt her tongue dart out to wet her dry lips. "She sat with me and spoke at length of my future. A horrifically bleak one, none-the-less."

Her eyes left his then, not wanting to see the concern burning there, and instead turned towards the fire, crackling and popping next to them. Melancholy seeping into her tone, Hermione murmured, "It was awful, Draco. Ronald and I were married in her life, and it wasn't a happy marriage. We had several," she paused and took in a ragged breath. "There were several tragedies that weighed heavily on the marriage, and once it was dissolved, apparently she lived in relative isolation, hidden away from the world."

With a heavy sigh, Hermione turned to smile sadly at the pale wizard that had stolen her heart and constantly ruled her thoughts. "She was brilliant though, a potioneer. Cured Lycanthropy, and before you ask, I did ask her about it, but she wouldn't say. I don't know why. Anyway, she told me that when she woke that morning, the Prophet's headline was…" she faltered momentarily. "You died. At a ridiculously young age. You weren't battling a life-threatening disease or anything, but…"

Draco sat back, shock contorting his handsome and aristocratic features. Unthinking, Hermione reached across the divide, placing a reassuring hand on his knee. "Don't lose it yet, Malfoy. There's more."

"More," Draco croaked. "Merlin, Granger!"

"Anyway," Hermione continued. "This older version of myself was just as shocked as you are, and had a good cry over it. Before she could wrap her mind around your untimely demise, a barrister came knocking on the door. He introduced himself as _your_ barrister, and of course, she argued that there must be a mistake because there'd be nothing for you to leave her. As much as she was aware, you still loathed her very existence. The barrister explained that you had left letters to her and a pouch of some kind. "

Draco's troubled expression tugged at her heartstrings and Hermione barely breathed her next words, "He told her he believed you died of a broken heart."

Glassy silver eyes flashed in the light of the fire, as they focused on her misty gaze. "Blood fucking hell, Granger," his voice was hoarse, and she watched helplessly as he scrubbed his hands over his face.

"I know," she whispered. The pain the thought of this gentle, kind man meeting his end because of heartbreak and loneliness brought was tremendous. Spending the last two weeks getting to know Draco had been two of the most fascinating and entrancing weeks she'd ever lived; His dry humour and wit never failed to make her laugh. His rare but breathtaking smiles were enough to shift the world on its axis. And Draco was so much more than she'd ever given him credit for being.

He was brilliant, on par with her level of intellect and that alone made him unbearably attractive. How long had she desired someone to challenge and intrigue her? And here he was, sitting across from her, beautifully broken and lost. Hermione wished for the words to make everything better, so they could return the easy comfort they had built together.

"After that, she read the letters. They're –"Hermione paused, a soft smile playing along the corners of her lips. "Oh, Malfoy, I don't have words for your letters. Only that they mean the world me and the older version of myself." Ducking her head, the petite, young witch nervously began plaiting her still wet hair. Anything to distract herself from that confession and the raging blush that came along with it.

"As you can imagine, reading your words and knowing that you were gone was highly emotional for her. But, once the letters were read, there was still the illusive pouch. Hold on a moment," she pushed up from her seat and rushed into her bedroom. It only took a moment to grab the bundle from her nightstand, and Hermione was handing over the letter that came with the time-turner. She felt it would be easier if he could read his own words regarding the situation.

She curled herself up in her chair, watching as he read. An affectionate grin quirked her lips at the blush that reddened his cheeks and the tips of his ears, no doubt embarrassed by the contents. Hermione was fascinated with the way his lips moved almost imperceptibly as he read, his brows lifting in surprise on a few occasions. Hermione had read that letter repeatedly herself. If nothing else, Draco can make an endearing and powerful argument on his behalf. Though, as his hands began to shake, and he seemed to have trouble swallowing, she began to feel the stirrings of panic once more.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered, her voice cracking with concern. He looked at her, and she was knocked breathless at the depth of desolation swirling within his grey eyes. _Oh no, oh no…_ whispered through her mind, a desperate sadness already beginning to claw at her heart.

"Coward to the end," he whispered morosely. One humourless chuckle later and he was shaking his head, holding her gaze. "Listen, Granger," and her gut twisted at how lifeless he sounded. "Please don't read my letters and feel obligated to enter into a relationship with me. Merlin, Hermione, you're all I've ever wanted," his gaze softened as he spoke of the tender flame that burned for her, "but I don't want you to give me a chance just because of my bleak future. I want your whole heart, the chance to love you as you should be loved-worshipped and adored. But I want you to want this just as much as I-for who I am now, not the desolate man who died at a too-young age."

Hermione could feel the emotion welling within her at the sight of the raw honestly splayed across his alabaster features, and she thought the sheer magnitude of them would rip her heart from its cage. Slowly, she began to nod, hot tears splashing over her cheeks. Draco reached over and wiped at the intrusive tears with the pad of his thumb, giving her a small smile. "Please, take some time to think of what I've said, of what you know of me so far. Try to imagine your future, and if you can include me in that life, I'll be here waiting for you. I'll wait for you as long as it takes for you to choose me, Hermione."

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 _Endnote: So? Good? Bad? Indifferent? I'm dying to know._

 _ps - Happy birthday, Draco! Love you, darling._

xx- otterly


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's note: Hi there! Been a while. Just shy of a month. I'm so sorry for taking so long to get this out to you all. Your reviews and kindness make me eager to share updates, even if my brain and body refuse to cooperate. I'm nervous about this chapter. I almost the scrapped the whole thing before deciding that you guys had waited long enough and deserved an update - regardless of whether I'm 100% in love with it. I can only hope it was worth the wait._

 _As always, I don't own Harry Potter. JKR does. If I owned it, we'd be reading Hermione Granger and Chamber of Secrets. *wink*_

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Hermione stared blankly into the hypnotizing undulations writhing within her fireplace. The flames seemed extra angry tonight, or perhaps Hermione just felt overly emotional. She was attributing emotion to a fire, for Godric's sake. With a groan, she dropped her head back against her wingback chair. Draco's words from earlier today echoed in her mind on a continuous loop.

He had no idea. No concept of how utterly breathtaking he was. The young witch lost the battle with her tears the moment the door clicked closed behind him. Draco - Merlin! That man, that bloody irresistible man, had no clue the effect he had on her. Think about it! All Hermione had done, since the night her future self appeared, was think about him. And his brilliant way with words. And his achingly gentle heart. And his fervent desire to love and be loved.

A low whine sounded from the back of her throat, and she draped and overly dramatic arm across her eyes. Draco had avoided her like the plague ever since. She assumed he'd bribed the house elves into bringing his lunch and dinner to his room because she hadn't seen him at either meal. It went without saying that she worked in the library alone that day.

And his absence was felt with every painful beat of her heart. It wasn't often that Hermione felt like a fool, but she did at that moment. Hermione had been carefully controlled, scared silly that she might slip up and reveal to Draco this tender flame that had slowly evolved into a raging wildfire she'd nursed for him. Too afraid to speak up and tell him exactly how she felt and what she thought of him.

Hermione was an idiotic coward, she'd decided. This man had laid bare his soul to her, and she was bloody scared to admit that it had won her over? That, no matter how hard she'd tried to fight it, she'd fallen for his careful demeanor and gentlemanly ways? Yes, there was a nagging concern that would filter through her mind occasionally - what would his mother think? How would her friends, how would Ronald, take the news that none other than Draco Malfoy had stolen her heart? That, maybe, he'd had it all along?

Yes. Many, many nights had been spent going back through her memories and realizing with growing fascination and horror that Malfoy's words had hurt more so because she desperately wished he'd like her. Even as a child, an overly critical, spoiled child sure, but child nonetheless - Draco was beautiful. His eyes, always sparkling with mischief and intelligence, were the first thing Hermione had noticed about him, and they stole her breath away. And, when she'd spy him laughing at something one of his friend's said across the Great Hall, she couldn't help but admire his perfectly white, straight smile.

Bloody _fucking_ hell, she'd been harboring a secret crush on Draco Malfoy from the first moment she'd laid eyes on him. It came as no surprise that she'd buried it so deep, they'd both been so cruel to one another. Still, it rattled her. It was difficult to come to terms that she would have willingly built a future with Ron and lived a miserable life - rather than face and accept that she had always had feelings for the spiteful, broken boy that always seemed to be there during the most important moments of her adolescence.

Self-indulgently, her inner voice argued hotly that before she knew of the letter's existence, Draco's behavior alone was the reason to forcefully fight against any kind of soft feeling towards the pale Slytherin. Hermione's tender heart gave a painful lurch in reproach of her critical mind, and she felt the bitter sting of tears in her eyes once more. Draco was so much more than unkind words and reproachful deeds; he was loyal and rather valiant. He loved his mother and was fiercely protective of the witch, something that made her insides squirm indelicately.

The parts of Hermione that were entirely independent squawked in indignation, but she couldn't deny that Draco's strength and slightly domineering need to protect those he cared for stoked the ever-growing embers of desire she felt for him. How would it feel to be wrapped in his strong embrace? Would he clutch her to him possessively, eager to stake his claim in front of others? Or would he be a private kind of lover? One who shared deep, meaningful glances filled with longing and fire?

Bringing her knees up and to her chest, Hermione closed her eyes and rested her forehead against them. She'd worked all day furiously to keep her mind from her treacherous thoughts - he'd asked her to think, and she would, when she could do so without feeling as if her heart might crumble to dust at any moment. She'd escaped to the prefect's bath after dinner, thinking a long soak in hot water scented by many soothing oils would go a long way in settling the dizzying swirls of emotion wreaking havoc on her body and soul.

Instead, each time she closed her eyes she saw his sad, storm cloud grey eyes staring back at her with barely concealed longing and her chest would cave inward from the emotional impact of it. The thought that he, in some alternate timeline, lived a solitary life - a lonely life, one that convinced him to finally reach out at the very end and beg for a single chance; it did something to her. A tremble ran through her magic and suddenly she couldn't breathe, couldn't draw in oxygen for her straining lungs. The fact that he'd lived through a lifetime of longing for her seemed to settle something deep within her very core, and she could feel it thrumming along with her magic like a live wire under her skin.

Hermione had left the warmth of her bathwater, hastily drying herself off and throwing on a well worn Hogwarts raglan along with soft terry shorts, preparing herself for a long night of over-thinking and emotional distress. She'd wandered back towards her dormitory listlessly, pausing briefly outside the door to his chambers, just around the corner and down the hall from her own. Hermione valiantly fought the urge to knock and continued, willing herself to do exactly what he'd asked of her and truly think about what it was she wanted.

All of which lead her here, curled in on herself, both electrified and terrified of the thought of handing Draco Malfoy her heart with the valiant hope that he wouldn't crush it within his grip until it was nothing more than a mangled pile of lifeless flesh. Hermione knew better, of course. If nothing else, Draco's behavior and his vehement plea for her heart had only assured her that this was real, and could very easily change everything. Did she want that? She thought she did.

Draco Malfoy was intense. In everything he did. Hermione's heart seemed to do a little flip within her chest. Imagining that intensity, devoted to loving her, had Hermione's breaths coming faster and her pulse thundering in her ears. She would be so lucky, she decided, if he loved her without abandon. Hermione could imagine it, but she honestly had no idea, nothing to compare it to - and it was as frightening as it was exciting.

Hermione decided she wanted to be loved like that. She'd apparently lived a life full of misery and loneliness already, and casting her thoughts back to her older self, she recalled the haunted look in her eyes, so similar to her own. She remembered her tears and broken whispers as she recounted her life's story. That version of herself had been so broken, so weary and tired. Hermione almost felt that if nothing else, she owed it to her future self to try. That's why the older witch had returned after all, wasn't it? Could she let older Hermione's sacrifice go to waste?

No. No, she couldn't.

Tears were slowly slipping down her cheeks, and Hermione stood on shaky legs. Without genuinely thinking about it, she slipped out of her dormitory and quietly padded down the hallway, eager to see Draco and tell him what was in her heart. Nerves made her hands shake, and her knees knock, though she couldn't explain why. She knew her feelings were reciprocated, and other than owning up to her inner turmoil there was nothing to be so concerned about. Mentally chastising herself, the young witch slowed her steps the closer she was to her destination.

When she faced the dark mahogany of his door, Hermione swallowed past a lump in her throat. _Be brave, just be brave..._ the words echoed in her mind, a mantra if you will, as her hand hovered above the aged wood. Hermione briefly hesitated; it was late - what if he was sleeping? She shook her head. If she was awake agonizing over this, Draco Malfoy certainly was. He had a thing for brooding. Realizing she was only stalling out of some misplaced fear, Hermione breathed deeply in and out a few times before rapping her knuckles against the grain.

Looking down at her hands as she twisted her fingers, the witch could hear his hesitant footfalls coming her way. The door hinges squeaked quietly in the darkened hallway, as Draco slowly opened the door.

"Granger?" he whispered, peeking his head out and looking down the corridor. "Are you alright? It's very late."

Hermione nodded quickly, still refusing to meet his gaze. The nervous twisting and fidgeting became more pronounced the longer she stood there - silently worrying.

"May I come in?" She finally asked in a quiet voice, one that was filled with uncertainty and nerves. His silence following her question only served to quadruple the nervousness she felt, and after another pregnant pause, Hermione finally lifted her eyes to his, one dainty brow raised.

Draco stared her down for a few moments; his storm-cloud grey eyes searched her own before trailing down her body. Hermione valiantly smothered a smirk as his cheeks bloomed with color and he cleared his throat. Stepping to the side and opening the heavy door wide, he gestured for her to enter.

As subtle as she could, Hermione let her eyes dance over his lithe frame. Never had a plain white tee-shirt and dark, drawstring pajama bottoms looked so good. Spinning slowly, Hermione took in his sitting room - almost identical to her own, though the wood was much darker and shades of emerald and forest green made the room feel lush and expensive. It suited him, she decided. A throat clearing behind her gave her a little start.

"Not that I'm complaining, Hermione," a shiver ran down her spine as his honeyed voice seemed to caress the syllables of her name. "But why are you here?"

Having steeled her nerves, Hermione pointed to his couch before taking a seat on the far end and pulled her legs up underneath her. "I couldn't sleep," her ocher eyes begged him to sit, so he did, pulling one leg up and settling his back against the arm of the couch - so that he was facing her. His fingers tapped nervously against the cushions while Draco gave her his undivided attention.

"I couldn't stop thinking about earlier," she began quietly, once again avoiding his stare. "Which, I guess was the point. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't put myself in your position before this all came out. It's still so hard to believe…" her words trailed off with a gentle sigh. "But then, when you said I shouldn't feel obligated to do anything because of the letters, I realized that wasn't all it was. Yes, of course, the letters have played a large part in my decisions lately - but they're not the only reason I'm here right now. With you."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, his face set in a stoic mask. Hermione hated that expression; she'd much rather see his nerves or worry or excitement. Not this carefully created blank expression that gave nothing away.

"I mean," Hermione bit her plump bottom lip before soothing the sting with a soft swipe of her tongue. "I enjoy your company, Malfoy. I look forward to our conversations and spending time with you. Do you have any idea how much it sucked to be alone in the library today? How worried I've been since you left my room this morning? This whole situation is so improbable - which let me tell you, has my logical brain short-circuiting. Look at you," she finally looked up at him with a small self-deprecating smile and shook her head. "And then look at me. It boggles the mind, it truly does. You could have anyone you wanted, why me? It just doesn't make sense."

Draco's eyes flashed dangerously, and Hermione instinctively knew he was about to lash out at her for putting herself down, so she raised a hand to cut him off, "Giving you chance based off of your bleak future never once crossed my mind, Draco. Not once."

With a scoff, Draco rolled his eyes before steadfastly refusing to meet her gaze once again. Her heart hurt knowing he could so readily dismiss anything she said when it didn't line up with his expectations. She never thought she'd see Draco Malfoy so broken, self-conscious, and weary.

"I was more focused on the boy who wanted so desperately to reach out to me and explain himself," with no small amount of horror, Hermione blinked away the stinging sensation in her eyes. It wouldn't do to break down in tears once again, in fact, how on earth did she have any tears left to cry? Feeling emboldened, the witch turned her body to face him and placed her warm hand over the one he draped along the back of the couch. "The boy who wanted so desperately to apologize for his actions. Of course, I was horrified when I learned of your fate, Draco - but that's not what caught my attention."

With a gentle squeeze to his hand, Hermione watched him with glassy eyes until he finally brought those beautiful, crystalline orbs up to meet her own once more.

"It was you."

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 _Endnotes: Meep. I'm so scared y'all are going to hate this. I know, there was no kisses or mutual declarations of love - but next chapter we'll hear from Draco and wouldn't you really rather THAT come from his perspective? At least, that's what I'm banking on. Give me your thoughts, be they good, bad, or indifferent. I love you all, so much. Thank you for your endless support and kindness. It's a rare gift that I truly treasure._

 _xx - otterly_


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's note: Bet you didn't expect to hear from me so soon, did ya? Surprise! Happy 4th of July to those of you here in the States. Enjoy the fireworks tonight. I don't have much to say here, only that I hope you enjoy this update._

 _As always, I do not own Harry Potter. I'm a lowly peasant, merely playing in a world of JKR's creation._

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" _It was you."_

Draco's mind seemed to disconnect from his body at that moment. Her words bounced around, pinging off his skull and making it hard to draw in breaths. He desperately wanted to believe her, so much so that he could feel his hands trembling, aching to reach out and touch her. _Finally._

But he couldn't. No matter what Hermione said, Draco knew what brought about her glorious change of heart - and it wasn't _him._ It was this alternate version of himself that played the martyr and used his Slytherin cunning to gobsmack this precious girl across from him and turn her world upside down and inside out. Disgust closed off his throat and made his stomach roll.

Draco watched as Hermione's expressive eyes narrowed on his look of disbelief and a tiny growl escaped her. He couldn't help the small grin that quirked his lips at the sound. His lovely lioness, growling at him like a wee kitten. Momentarily, he wondered if she purred as well but resolutely shoved that thought to the back of his mind with all the other inappropriate thoughts he'd been having of late. It didn't help that she had on the tiniest pair of bottoms Draco had ever seen. They looked soft...not nearly as soft and smooth as her long, shapely legs.

Hermione was so tiny, utterly petite, and yet her legs seemed to go on for days. He could almost imagine them wrapped around him - this time Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably and forcefully shook his head to clear away the images his brain was conjuring.

"It's the _truth_ , Draco," Hermione stressed. "Even though it sometimes feels like I'm pulling teeth to get a word out of you, on the rare occasion you do open up, I - I feel blessed that you chose to share a part of yourself with me. I've known you for seven years, Draco - and yet, I feel like I've only recently been allowed to see you for who you are, instead of the mask you constantly wear. And I like what I see."

Huffing out a breath, Hermione pushed herself up from the couch and began to pace in front of the fireplace. Draco's eyes followed her every movement while he tried to slow his racing pulse with deep breaths. She was adorable when aggravated, he decided.

"You're so aggravating. You're so confident and self-assured one moment, and then blushing the next. Which is so charming, ugh, it pains me to admit it," Draco watched her, and his smile widened. Her hair was expanding with each word; her hands were gesticulating wildly as she paced. "You're protective of those you care about and undeniably loyal. The way you talk about your mother - the love you have for her, it's easy to see why she was willing to put it all on the line for your safety."

Suddenly Hermione came to a stop facing him, her deep, dark eyes beseeching.

"You're a good man, Draco. You just haven't had many opportunities to show it. But I know you are. I've seen it. Please believe me."

His heart lurched inside his chest. How long had Draco dreamed of something like this happening? Years of longing and suffering in silence, could it have been avoided if he'd only been brave enough to show her who he was? Had she been paying such close attention to him lately? He tried to think back to their time working in the library. Mostly Draco used the time to watch her, learn her, adore her surreptitiously. But, come to think of it, Hermione had been watching him just as carefully. The petite witch _was_ eager to listen to anything he wished to share, and so sweetly encouraging when he had trouble being so exposed.

Hermione rarely pushed, and when she did, she always did so gently - with care and concern for him. Draco's hands were growing slick with sweat, and he was almost certain a herd of hippogriffs were fucking around in his stomach, the nervous flutters he'd come to expect and associate with this beautiful witch in front of him causing his cheeks to warm.

"It's not the easiest thing to do, Hermione. I know I'm not a good guy. I don't deserve you, that much is ridiculously clear. You're made of all things good, and light and glorious and I'm a walking shadow, ready to stamp out your beacon of hope with my darkness. How could you want that? How could anyone?" He hated saying it, but it was the truth. Draco knew he could spend a lifetime doing good deeds and still never deserve the shining example of innocence that was Hermione Granger.

"Stop that!" Hermione exploded, marching towards him with her hands on her hips - leaning over him. She shook her head as her beautiful, endless eyes clouded over with a fresh round of tears. "I can't stand to listen to you speak about yourself that way! Yes, your life has had more than enough darkness, but it doesn't _define_ you, Draco. You are so much more than just your past, why can't you see that?"

Her shuddering breaths and hiccuping sobs tore at his chest, and without really thinking about it, he'd stood and wrapped her in a tight embrace. Rocking her gently from side to side, Draco made soothing noises to try to calm her, while running a gentle hand through her curls.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make you so upset." Hermione's small hands gripped his shirt as if it were a lifeline, and her tears dampened the fabric covering his chest. "Hey, hey - calm down, love. I'm not the best with crying girls."

A small, broken laugh escaped Hermione, and Draco couldn't help but let out a relieved breath. Pulling back slightly, he stared down at her with no small sense of wonder before clutching her to him once again.

"You mean that, don't you?" he murmured into her fragrant curls.

"Of course I do. I don't make a habit of saying things I don't mean," Hermione returned just as softly. Draco could feel his blood rushing to his head, and heard his heartbeat thundering in his ears as he slowly pulled back once more, only this time he gently took her face in his hands. His eyes swept over her features, wanting to remember this moment for the rest of his life - no matter how it turned out. Gathering what courage he did have and listening, for once, to what his heart was crying out for - Draco swooped in, slanting his lips over hers and kissed her as if he'd never again have the chance.

For the briefest moment, Hermione stood frozen, with his lips coaxing, begging, imploring hers to join in this dance of lips and teeth and tongue. And finally, _finally,_ she gave the sweetest little sigh as her body melted into his and her lips began to move with his own tentatively. A small groan rumbled in his chest, as he pulled her closer and sucked gently on her plump bottom lip, just as he'd imagined doing so for years in his dreams.

Hermione's lips tasted of tea and honey, sweet and earthy. Utterly addicting. And then when she parted those bee-stung lips and whimpered quietly into his mouth as his tongue slid past and brushed gently along her own - he was lost. Hermione pushed her hands up over his chest, around his neck and into his hair, tugging gently. Draco's own hands ran up and down her sides, along the curve of her back, before sliding into her riotous curls. Pulling gently, he angled her head and dragged his lips along the line of her jaw while panting and trying to catch his breath.

"Wow," he heard Hermione's breathy declaration and chuckled gently into the fragrant skin along her pulse point.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," Draco velvet voice whispered into her ear.

"I might have some idea," she responded, her voice light and happy. Draco couldn't help but puff out his chest just a little with pride. His kiss had not only stopped her tears but brought about this broad, dazed grin. He did that. It was enough to make him dizzy.

Unable to resist, and not wanting to, Draco crashed his lips against hers once more. Briefly, he wondered if you could become addicted to kisses. He dismissed the thought immediately; he wouldn't mind being addicted to this witch's lips. Hermione's blunt nails scratched against his scalp while she swiped her petal-pink tongue along the seam of his lips, and her eagerness ripped a moan from the back of his throat.

With great reluctance, Draco pulled himself away from the fountain of her lips - her body pressed so intimately against his own, and her intoxicating kisses had awoken his sleeping member, and it was much too soon for that kind of behaviour. Hermione was someone to be treasured, worshipped and loved beyond measure. Not manhandled during an, admittedly, fantastic snog.

"Hermione," Draco breathed, mere inches from her lips. His eyes sparkled like freshly shined silver as he gazed tenderly into her own. "I swear to you, no one could love you better than I will if you want this. I will endeavour to keep winning your affections day after day. I will love you, wholeheartedly and with every fibre of my being if you'll consent to be mine. Please, _please..._ be mine?"

Draco was shocked when she pushed up on the balls of her feet and pressed a soft, sweet, chaste kiss to his lips, her own smiling against his.

"Nothing would make me happier, Draco."

And he could tell she meant it. The softness in her gaze as she blinked up at him was a soothing balm to his soul, and he couldn't help but crush her in another tight embrace as he battled traitorous tears that filled his eyes. It wouldn't do to cry in front of her, especially over this. However, Draco had never experienced happiness like this before, and he seemed to have no control over it.

"Thank you," he finally choked out, burying his face in her glorious curls. "Stars above, I never thought I'd see the day." As if sensing his emotional upheaval, Hermione tenderly ran a hand through his hair before rubbing soothing circles along his spine.

"Well, it's here now," her breathy giggle brought a genuine smile to his face and he decided there and then, if she let him, he'd never let her go.

Sighing against her curls, Draco offered one last squeeze before stepping back and running a hand through his hair, now unruly thanks to Hermione's wandering hands. "I don't want to let you go, but it's terribly late and breakfast comes early. You need your rest, love."

Draco's heart skipped a beat each time he used the term of endearment, the thrill of being able to do so singing through his veins.

"I don't want to go," Hermione whined playfully, pouting. Unable and unwilling to resist the temptation, Draco leaned in a kissed her pouting lips softly while tracing a gentle finger from her temple to her chin.

"What if I promise to be waiting outside your door first thing and we eat breakfast together? Would that help?" He'd give her anything her heart desired, really.

"It certainly makes me eager for the morning," Hermione whispered, staring up at him with open adoration painting her features.

"Then it's a date." And his heart soared at the word.

* * *

 _Endnotes: Hope it was worth the wait._

 _xx - otterly_


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's note: My darling readers, I am so sad right now. We only have one chapter left. I know. I KNOW. But all of my attempts to lengthen this story fell through and I realized, that's okay. This story was about righting a wrong and finding a way to bring these two together. I've accomplished that and I feel like, with the next chapter, it tells their story - how they found one another against all odds. I like that. But that doesn't mean you won't see more of these two. I'll have a series of one-shots that come as the muse strikes and we'll see them live out their lives in snippets. I promise._

 _As always, I don't own Harry Potter. Any and all recognizable traits belong to the one and only J. K. Rowling. I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter. You waited long enough for it_. _Have I mentioned lately just how much I love you? No? I love you so, so, so very much. Each and every one of you_.

* * *

For the first time in recent memory, Draco woke with a smile on his face. The early morning sunlight was streaming through his bedroom window, and the wizard indulged in a luxurious stretch - from the tips of his fingers all the way down to his toes. Still, the grin never faded. How could it? Draco Malfoy felt on top of the world.

He still found it hard to believe that Hermione Granger saw him for who he was, not the mask he wore for the majority of his young life, and miraculously she liked what she saw. Tapping on his window as the wizard rubbed the sleep from his eyes drew his attention to the glass and the regal owl waiting there. With a bit of a groan, Draco pushed himself out of his cozy bed and made his way over, opening the window for his Mother's owl. The owl nuzzled his hand affectionately as Draco took his mother's letter and waited, meaning his mother wanted an immediate response.

Of course.

Tearing the envelope open, the wizard made his way to his bathroom reading as he went. His mother missed him and would like very much to have him home for tea that afternoon, seeing as the new school term was set to begin in a handful of days. Draco turned over her request in his mind as he showered quickly, he'd promised Hermione that he'd be waiting for her this morning and he would be. But, as he prepared for the day, he also knew he didn't want to go home by himself. After he finished dressing in black trousers and a black button-down, he hastily wrote a reply telling his mother he'd be there but hopefully, his girlfriend, Miss Hermione Granger, would be able to accompany him, as well. And either way, he'd prefer to have tea in the gardens.

Now if he could only convince Hermione to come with.

Draco clipped the antique pocket watch his recently departed Godfather had left him to his belt loop and slid it's heavy weight into his pocket, before grabbing his wand and running a nervous hand through his damp hair. He took a deep breath in to settle his sudden bout of nerves and popped each individual knuckle before making his way out into the hall and down to Hermione's door. Leaning as casually as he could against the opposite wall, Draco briefly wondered if he had enough time to run out to the greenhouses and collect a small number of wildflowers for his witch, before resolutely shaking off that thought.

Perhaps tomorrow he'd wake a little earlier, he grinned at the thought.

Draco felt anxious, he wanted nothing more than for Hermione to open her door. He longed to see her; he felt a physical ache from her absence. Another nervous hand ran through his rapidly drying hair at the thought. He was in so much trouble with this witch. Draco knew he had to convince her to come with this afternoon, he wasn't sure he had the strength to be so far away from her for any length of time just yet. He also knew he needed to rein those feelings in, because it was far too much, far too soon.

Even if it wasn't. Not for him at least.

Just when he thought he'd truly lose his mind, Draco heard Hermione's footfalls approaching her door and a moment later her sparkling topaz eyes met his, immediately a smile lit up her face and he was wrecked. He knew a smile that rivalled her own curved his lips, but for the life of him, he couldn't contain it. Draco didn't want to. Hermione pulled her door closed and his arms were around her before she could take a step.

He couldn't help but sigh when their lips met in the sweetest kind of hello.

"Good morning," Hermione breathed against his lips and her minty breath washed over him, making him smile into their kiss.

"Morning, love," Draco murmured as he pulled back and tucked one of her crazy curls behind her ear. "Did you sleep well?" He was genuinely curious, as his own sleep had been untouched by nightmares for the first time in years. Draco was surprised he wasn't literally walking on air. Taking Hermione's hand in his much larger one, the pale wizard brought her close to his side as they began the trek to breakfast.

Her eyes twinkled, seriously twinkled up at him, and the smile never left her face when she responded, "Best sleep I've had in a long, long time."

His heart did a little turn in his chest and he sighed before pressing his lips to her forehead. Would this witch ever truly know the effect she had on him? She could knock him over with a look, ensnare him with a word, and ruin him with her kiss. And he'd gladly surrender to the sweet torture again and again because he saw all the stars, swirling galaxies, and heaven itself in her eyes.

"So no second-guessing?" Draco teased with a smirk, though he did feel his heartbeat accelerate and found it hard to swallow around the sudden lump caught in his throat. He watched as Hermione's eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly, before she rolled them in an over-exaggerated fashion.

"Of course not, Draco. Though I presume I should ask the same? Any second thoughts on your behalf?" Her deadpan stare and tone brought a chuckle from him, even as his cheeks heated.

" _Touché_ , Granger," and Draco would swear he felt his heart swell in his chest when she brought her head to rest against his shoulder just as they began their descent down the stone path was relatively clear, the pair only stumbling into Neville Longbottom on the way down. Draco had been prepared to defend them both when Longbottom blinked at their entwined hands for a moment but was surprised when he only met his eyes and extended his hand to shake.

"Clean slate, yeah?" Longbottom asked in a voice much surer of itself than Draco had ever remembered it being. He shook the proffered hand with a solemn nod, still reeling a bit from Neville's easy and honest acceptance.

"Please, though I can only accept your offer if you accept my apology. I was a right arse to you for years, Longbottom. I was cruel for no other reason than being cruel and you didn't deserve any of it. I can't apologize enough I'm afraid," Draco's tone was soft, yet serious and there was no denying the honesty shining in his pewter eyes.

A slow smile spread across Neville's face as he turned his attention to the witch pressed against Draco's side, "I was going to ask what brought this about but I think I understand now. You guys headed to breakfast, yeah? Mind a bit of company?"

Draco watched as Hermione's entire being seemed to brighten and silently sent his thanks to the young man he'd tortured for years. Longbottom's ability to move forward from their mutual past's without animosity was a gift Draco hadn't thought to ask for. And he'd make sure he appreciated it all the more for that reason alone. The pale wizard wore a quietly content smile as he listened to the two Gryffindor's catch up and it didn't falter until they were steps away from the entrance to the Great Hall.

Hermione and Neville looked back in confusion when the witch was jerked to a stop as she made to enter the hall. An ashen and absolutely terrified Draco could barely meet their questioning gazes. Hermione glanced at Neville briefly before stepping close to Draco and ducking to meet his lowered eyes. "Sweetheart?"

Draco winced at the term of endearment falling so sweetly from her lips. How could he deserve someone like Hermione, if he was scared of facing a small group of their peers by her side? Really, he was more concerned with his witch catching hell because she chose to be with him more than anything his fellow classmates could throw his way. Draco knew he deserved whatever vitriol they spat in his direction, but Hermione?

She deserved nothing but their thanks and love. Without her, they wouldn't be living in a world free from the threat of Voldemort. Without her, they would have nothing.

"Draco?" His witch repeated, her countenance darkening with worry with each second he failed to respond.

"I don't want them to judge you because of me," he whispered brokenly. Biting down hard on his suddenly quivering bottom lip, Draco huffed an angry exhale. "We'd all still be living in fear if it weren't for you and Potter and even Weasel. But if they see your hand in mine," Draco squeezed her hand in his, to strengthen his point. "What do you honestly expect to happen?"

"I don't care," Hermione immediately responded. Shaking her head with defiance painting her delicate features she reminded Draco of the stubborn witch he'd spent years battling and he couldn't help the affectionate smirk that twisted his lips.

"I know it's none of my business," Longbottom interjected, pulling both Draco and Hermione's attention to him. "But this is exactly what we fought a war for." Gesturing between the couple with a small, kind smile, Neville shrugged. "It gives me hope. If the two of you can see past your differences and learn to value and care for one another? Then what's holding everyone else back? No one will say a word to you two today. Or they'll have to deal with me."

"Oh, Neville," Hermione breathed as tears clouded her vision and Draco wrapped his free arm around her middle, resting his chin atop her wild curls. Exhaling shakily, the fair-haired wizard nodded his thanks at Neville, which he returned easily.

"Thanks, mate. It means quite a bit," Draco finally choked out. Longbottom waved the words away and grinned a cheeky smile that made Hermione giggle into her wizard's chest.

"Think nothing of it, but get a move on will ya? I'm starving!" The unlikely trio laughed and made their way into the Great Hall in much better spirits. Other than a few confused and slightly disgusted stares, they were left alone to eat in peace at the otherwise empty Slytherin table. Granted, Longbottom would fix an arctic glare on anyone who dared eye them too long or with too much disgust. It was odd for Draco, being protected by not just one, but two passionate Gryffindors.

He decided he rather enjoyed it. Longbottom's company as well, for that matter. The two discussed several herbology articles and argued the finer points of many potions and whether dried or fresh herbs were better when brewing.

Hermione simply watched the boys with a fond smile as she buttered and spread marmalade over her toast. When Draco expertly poured and added the perfect amount of milk and sugar to her tea, the witch may have swooned a bit. Each time his thundercloud eyes would flick in her direction and his lips would quirk up ever so slightly, Hermione could swear she felt her heart skip several beats. One simple look and she was wrecked.

The closer they drew to finishing their meal, the more nervous Draco appeared to be. His knee was bouncing under the table, slightly jarring Hermione with each bounce. After several long minutes of suffering through it, the witch placed her hand on his thigh. Draco choked on his pumpkin juice and whipped his head around to stare at her so quickly, Hermione worried over whiplash.

"What's got you so nervous?" She whispered to him with an amused grin. Draco grimaced and then sighed, realizing she could see right through him.

"I need to ask you something and I really want you to say yes, so of course I'm worried that you won't." He watched with no small amount of amusement as Hermione's nose scrunched up adorably at his vague response. Draco took a deep breath before speaking softly and carefully, "My mum invited me for afternoon tea today and I would very much like for you to attend with me."

He watched as Hermione's eyes widened, vestiges of fear-laced panic clear in her gorgeous amber eyes. No longer worried about appearing rude to Longbottom, Draco spun, draping one leg over each side of the bench to face Hermione head-on and went on, hoping to quickly assure his witch. "We'd be in the gardens, you wouldn't have to set foot in the Manor if you don't want to, Hermione. I'd never do that to you, I swear it. It's just that the new term begins next week and she would like to see me before then and I -" Draco swallowed thickly and forced himself to finish. "I don't want to be away from you right now. You don't have to come, I'll understand, but I really wish you would."

Hermione glanced down where his large hands had come to rest just above her knees, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against the soft skin found there. Her entire body felt both heavy and warm from the innocent gesture and she had to blink away the dazzling effects her wizard had on her. Giving herself a once-over, she decided the off-white sundress she'd chosen for the day, with pale blue roses embroidered all along the flared skirt and bust would certainly meet the standards for afternoon tea. She might need to grab her periwinkle quarter-sleeved cardigan just to play it safe, but one look at Draco's pleading expression, Hermione knew she'd ultimately give in.

It wasn't that she feared his mother, or the Manor really. She'd certainly lived out some of the worst moments of her life there, but she also knew that Draco would do everything in his power to make and keep her comfortable. And really, she was more than interested to meet Narcissa Malfoy free from the oppressive restraints of her husband and his affiliations. Draco loved his mother fiercely, and that alone told the witch that her first impressions had been clouded and wrong.

"I'll go," Hermione whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. Leaning forward and pressing her forehead to his, the witch smiled softly and shrugged her shoulders at his bemused expression. "You made a really compelling argument."

His answering chuckle and his arms sliding around her back made Hermione feel lighter than air. "Thank you, love." Draco breathed, his relief palpable, before pressing a gentle, loving kiss to her lips.

* * *

The trip to the Headmistresses office, as Hermione refused to leave the school grounds without explicit permission though they both were of legal age, had been as nerve-wracking as it had been amusing. The entire way there, Draco worried. He worried that McGonagall would curse him the second she realized the Princess of Gryffindor Tower was willingly on his arm. Or she'd curse him the second she figured out where they were headed, simply for what had happened to her favorite student the last time she happened upon the Malfoy family home.

In reality, the schoolmarm had stared her students down for several minutes in silence. Her face might as well have been carved out of stone, her expression was blank and gave nothing away as to her internal thoughts. Though her spritely and sparkling eyes, reminiscent of Dumbledore himself, offered a slight ray of hope. Just as Hermione began to fidget nervously, chewing her bottom lip and twisting the hem of her delightful dress in her free hand, McGonagall tilted her head to the side and a slow, but bright smile stole over her features.

"I always did believe if you two could see past your differences, you'd make quite the match," the Headmistress announced with a sharp nod of her head, flabbergasting Draco to the point his mouth fell open and his incredulous expression brought about a round of laughter from the women in the room.

"Really, Mr. Malfoy what did you expect? You're both adults and while it behoves me to remind you to conduct yourself with grace and understanding while attending your classes, your personal relationships are just that. Your own. Quite frankly I think you'll be good for each other. And it's remarkably hopeful, seeing you two together in spite of the past you share. I can only hope other's take the same leaps of faith you two have done." McGonagall cleared her throat, ridding herself of the shake apparent in her voice. "As you know the gates close at 9 o'clock sharp. Return before then, or make preparations to stay elsewhere for the evening. Have fun."

The couple blinked at the headmistress for a moment before taking the dismissal for what it was, and their mutual relieved laughter echoed in the spiral staircase around them as they descended.

* * *

The sound of apparation alerted Narcissa to their arrival and the witch was up and moving towards them, one hand over her heart as she took in the pair together. Hermione was floored by the Malfoy Gardens in full bloom, but the regal witch with tears shining in her eyes as they raked over her son and Hermione herself stole her full attention. The witch couldn't help but shrink slightly into Draco's side, unsure and slightly overwhelmed by the emotional response.

"My baby boy," Narcissa crooned, and Draco huffed but refused to release Hermione's hand even as his mother pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. Hermione could hear the mother and son murmuring softly to one another, but couldn't make out what they were saying to each other. She watched the happy reunion with a small grin, and then Narcissa pulled away from Draco and turned her attention to Hermione. The smile Narcissa Malfoy offered her was near blinding and full of happiness as the Malfoy matriarch wrapped the younger witch in an embrace and kissed each of her cheeks.

"And Miss Granger, I am so delighted you could join Draco this afternoon. I must apologize for the atrocities you experienced in my home but you have my word you have nothing to fear in our home or from our family from this moment forward." Narcissa cupped her cheeks and shook her head before whispering conspiratorially, "I've never seen him so happy. Thank you for that."

Hermione was certain she resembled a sun-ripened tomato but her grin widened in response to Narcissa's welcome and the tense set of her shoulders finally relaxed. Narcissa led the way to a lovely table overlooking row after row of roses and other beautiful flowers in full bloom, and Draco pulled out both his mother's and Hermione's chairs before seating himself. "Pimsy," Narcissa called softly and a moment later a small house elf appeared, wearing a classic black and white maid uniform.

Hermione blinked in shock at the sight of the elf, but Narcissa only smirked. "Please bring the tea and biscuits, Pimsy. Is there anything you two would like, darlings?" The blonde witch raised a questioning brow at the pair.

"Pim, could you add those cucumber sandwiches I adore so much?" Draco asked with a charming smile and again Hermione looked on in wide-eyed confusion. Narcissa smothered a chuckle behind her hand and explained, "The first thing my dragon did when we returned from the Ministry after your testimony freed him of course, was free our house elves. Oh, they wailed until he explained they had the choice of taking their freedom and leaving the family or remaining and accepting a uniform and wages. They all agreed of course."

Lady Malfoy did not miss the adoring gaze the young witch turned on her son or the way her son's cheeks and ears pinkened. Draco had ranted over the entirety of the Christmas Holidays one year about Miss Granger and her house elf initiative she'd formed at the school. Narcissa knew exactly why her son had taken such an absolute stance on the subject of the Malfoy's house elves as soon as he had the authority to do so.

"Draco," Hermione breathed, squeezing the hand closest to her on the table

"It's really no big deal," the wizard murmured in a rare bashful moment that had his mother forcefully holding back childish squeals of glee.

"It is a big deal," Hermione argued. "It's a very big deal. At least it is to me, and you know that."

Draco rubbed the back of his neck before raking a hand through his hair, "Well, on the off chance I was finally able to tell you how I felt, I thought it would be easier to convince you that I had changed through actions. You always seemed like someone who would value actions over words."

"I am," she whispered before leaning over and pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek, one that promised more later when they were without an audience. "Thank you, Draco."

"Yes, well." The wizard dropped his gaze to the table but the smile overtaking his face could not be missed.

Pimsy was gone and back before anyone noticed and Draco once again poured Hermione's tea, adding sugar and milk before passing it to her. She could find herself getting used to such loving treatment from her wizard. Taking two biscuits and sandwiches for herself, Hermione allowed herself to get lost in the conversation between mother and son. Their mutual love and admiration were apparent in every look and touch, and Hermione felt an intense longing for her own parents that nearly overwhelmed her entirely.

Narcissa must have noticed something amiss with her expression because the older witch frowned with concern and leaned forward as if sensing her distress. "Are you quite alright, Hermione? You look like you might be ill."

"Oh," Hermione mumbled and ducked her chin. "I was just lost in thought."

"Are you sure, love?" Draco queried, looking her over with a considerate amount of worry.

"I'm certain," she whispered through her suddenly tight throat. "I was only thinking of my parents. Seeing the two of you together just reminded me of how much I miss them."

Draco's eyes widened and darted to his mother's icy gaze as his spine stiffened. Swallowing thickly, he wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders and toyed with the curls he found there. "You haven't talked much about your parents, did something happen to them?" His tone was wary and he prepared himself for the worst but found himself fervently hoping for the best.

"Yes," Hermione choked on the admission, turning her haunted, tearful brown eyes to Draco.

"Love?" Draco breathed before pulling her into a tight embrace. He stared over her shoulder to meet his mother's horrified stare. One shaking hand covering her mouth, Narcissa pushed away from the table and rounded on the couple. Crouching down beside Hermione, she took one of the younger witch's hands in her own, offering what little comfort she could to the emotional witch in her son's arms.

"I obliviated them before I left with Harry to search for the Horcruxes," Hermione hiccupped through her tears. "I planted false identities and a desire to move to Australia because I knew they would be a target. I didn't realize they would just disappear off the face of the Earth. I know Monica and Wendell Wilkins travelled to Australia, arriving in Sydney. After that, they headed towards the Gold Coast and simply disappeared. My visitor," Hermione paused to lift her gaze to Draco's, heavy with implication - she didn't feel like explaining the time travelling version of herself just now. "She told me she looked everywhere for them, but they were just gone. I don't know if I'll ever find them. I so desperately want to give them themselves back and apologize, but I'll likely never get the chance. I'm a horrible daughter."

Draco crushed Hermione in his embrace, battling his own tears and watching them fall unchecked from his mother's eyes. His witch's hard sobs shook them both and he felt lost in how to comfort her. The only solution he could come up with was to tell her the truth.

"You saved them, Hermione. You're right, they definitely were a target and you're brilliant planning saved their lives. I know Mother and I would have absolutely no problem hiring private investigators to follow what leads your visitor may have given you. I know for a fact your parents were never found by Death Eaters, love. We would have heard about it, or worse. Maybe the travel bug really bit them and they decided to make Australia the first stop of many?" The wizard felt like he was rattling on, but kept his tone as soothing as he could and ran his hands up and down her spine in long, sure strokes.

"Yes, I can get in touch with Monty as soon as you leave, dear. He's the best tracker we have in our employ. We'll do everything we can to help reunite you and your parents, Miss Granger. I promise you. And in the meantime, if you ever need someone to speak with - though I know no one can replace your own mother, please consider reaching out to me? You are important to my son, and therefore, you are extremely important to me. Do you understand?" Narcissa's kind words, paired with her sympathetic smile and watery eyes had Hermione lunging for her motherly embrace a moment later, a fresh round of sob wracking her small frame.

"Oh, you poor, sweet child. There, there, little love." Narcissa crooned in that voice all mother's eventually master. Hermione's broken, quiet 'thank you's' were muffled into the older witch's shoulder, and her son watched the most important witches in his life console one another with no small amount of gratitude warming his heart. Once the emotions pouring out from all of them calmed, Hermione pulled back from Narcissa's embrace and hastily wiped at her eyes.

"Oh, I just ruined what was a lovely afternoon tea with my hysterics!" She bemoaned and covered her face to hide her embarrassment. Narcissa clucked her tongue and Draco gently pulled her hands from her face with a comforting and loving smile. "You haven't ruined anything, sweetheart. I'm glad you told us. I hate that you've been suffering through this alone," at this he levelled her with a pointed stare, but cupped her cheek affectionately nonetheless. "I hate that you have to suffer this at all, but I'll do everything in my power to make it right, Hermione. You have my word."

"And mine," Narcissa reiterated, finally standing and placing a steady hand on Hermione's shoulder. "We'll take care of you, darling girl. Malfoy's take care of their own."

Draco's nod of agreement was aristocratic and tickled something within his witch causing a quiet chuckle to bubble up and burst forth, which only made him smile _that smile_ and she melted.

"Thank you," she whispered to both of them as she held Draco's captivating stare.

"You don't need to thank us, you silly witch. This is what you do when you love someone." Draco said it so casually, as he stood to pull out his mother's chair that when both witches froze and turned to stare at him through unblinking eyes, at first he wasn't sure what he'd done to cause that reaction. His mother's shrill squeal piercing his eardrums while her arms wrapped around his neck in a near strangulating hold clued him in.

Sheepishly staring at his witch over his mother's shoulder, he was knocked breathless by the depth of emotion swirling in her soft brown eyes. One hand over her chest and eyes radiating joy and affection and another emotion Draco refused to name, Hermione beamed a trembling smile just for him and Draco felt his world stop, tilt and right itself for the first time in years.

'I love you,' he mouthed with answering grin. And he'd tell her again, once they were alone. And again. And again. Until one day, when she'd hopefully return the sentiment and he'd have everything he'd ever dreamed of.

He decided he couldn't wait for that day to arrive, he would, of course. But inside, he'd be eager and impatient to hear those three little words that meant so much, fall from her perfect lips. Meanwhile, he'd bask in her obvious affection and appreciation and thank all the gods known to man that they deemed him worthy of such a witch.

* * *

 _Endnotes: One more to go. I hope you'll be there with me when we draw it to a close. I'm very emotional at the moment. I really only have the beginning and the end of the last chapter to write. I have over 2.5k words written and I think you all will love it, at least I'm very hopeful for that outcome. Was it worth the wait? xx - otterly_


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's note: I do not own Harry Potter. Comments at the end._

* * *

 _Hands, put your empty hands in mine_

 _And scars, show me all the scars you hide_

 _And hey, if your wings are broken_

 _Please take mine so yours can open too_

 _'Cause I'm gonna stand by you_

 _Oh, tears make kaleidoscopes in your eyes_

 _And hurt, I know you're hurting, but so am I_

 _And love, if your wings are broken_

 _Borrow mine so yours can open too_

 _'Cause I'm gonna stand by you_

 _Even if we're breaking down, we can find a way to break through_

 _Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through hell with you_

 _Love, you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna stand by you_

 _Even if we can't find heaven, I'm gonna stand by you_

 _Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through hell with you_

 _Love, you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna stand by you_

 _Yeah, you're all I never knew I needed_

 _And the heart, sometimes it's unclear why it's beating_

 _And love, if your wings are broken_

 _We can brave through those emotions too_

 _'Cause I'm gonna stand by you_

 _Oh, truth, I guess truth is what you believe in_

 _And faith, I think faith is helping to reason_

 _No, no, no, love, if your wings are broken_

 _Borrow mine so yours can open too_

 _'Cause I'm gonna stand by you_

 _Stand by You - Rachel Platten_

* * *

Something was drawing him out of one of the most pleasurable dreams he could remember, and he turned his face with a groan, burying it in the mess of curls spread across his pillow. A small smile quirked his lips and a soft chuckle came from his left, causing him to crack one bleary eye open to peek at his witch. Hermione's soft brown eyes sparkled back at him in the early morning sunlight.

"Too early," Draco grumbled causing Hermione's laughter to fill the room once more. Slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her in close, he nuzzled the soft, fragrant skin of her neck with a sigh. He was aware of an agitated tapping filling the space, but he was deadset on ignoring it. "Five more minutes, love?" He used his most cajoling voice, as dread weighed heavily in the pit of his stomach. Classes would begin today. They'd have to face all their schoolmates and their judgement today, and Draco was not eager to leave their cocoon of comfort.

"Negative, sweetheart," Hermione murmured softly, running a hand through his platinum locks. "I need to go get ready, and you need to let in the owl that's glaring at you rather viciously through the window."

Lifting his face and glaring at the evil bird in return, Draco whined as Hermione wiggled out of the cage of his arms. Both of them had been full of nervous energy last night and his witch had looked up at him with those big, doe eyes of hers and whispered that she didn't want to be alone. Draco had searched her eyes for several long moments before nodding and taking her hand in his, led her to his bedroom and settled them both down. They'd shared several long, slow kisses that left them both longing for more, however, they refused to move too fast and risk ruining everything.

Instead, they'd snuggled down in one another's arms and whispered until the moon was high overhead and their eyes simply wouldn't stay open any longer. Draco hoped against hope he could convince Hermione to spend most nights with him, he'd never experienced such a deliriously happy sleep before. Currently, his witch was sliding out of his bed and even though he knew he looked ridiculous, Draco couldn't help the pout that puffed his bottom lip out.

"Evil minx," he chastised with affection. Hermione shook her head at him with a glorious smile and chuckled.

"Get up, Draco! We don't have that much time. Let the owl in. I'll go shower and get ready. Meet me when you're done?" His witch slid her discarded jumper over her threadbare t-shirt before leaning over and pressing her lips to his, slow and sweet.

"Fine," Draco sighed. "But know I only do so because I love you."

Hermione's grin was brilliant and she paused, cupping his cheek. Draco held his breath, desperately hoping this would be it, this would be the moment she returned his feelings. Realistically, he knew it was probably much too early for her to feel the same, but still, he held on to hope.

With a slow sigh, Hermione hummed happily, brushing her thumb over the curve of his lips, "I know." She kissed him once more before skipping out of his room and Draco fell back against his pillows, feeling disappointment burn through his veins. He tamped that selfish emotion down and angrily threw off his blanket and stomped over to the window, opening it with more force than necessary.

The tawny barn owl hooted indignantly, dropping the letter at his feet. The pair stared each other down for a long moment before the owl ruffled its feathers with another hoot, this time sounding more like a reprimand and took back to the skies. Draco ran a hand through his hair, still trying to shake himself out of his melancholy before bending to pick up the letter from the floor. The envelope was blank, causing the pale wizard's brow to furrow.

Tossing it on his bed, Draco decided a quick shower would be needed to shake off his morning fog. His silver eyes stared at the stark white envelope laying innocently against his emerald duvet before he shook his head and grabbed his clothes and school robes before shuffling into the bathroom. Once in the shower, Draco turned it icy for the first minute, shocking his mind awake and clearing the sleep from his brain. Then, turning the water to a near-scalding temperature, Draco hurriedly scrubbed himself clean.

Meeting his eyes in the mirror above the sink, he took a moment to make note of how brilliantly his eyes shined and the almost ever-present upward curve of his lips. It amazed him just how much Hermione's presence had brightened all the aspects of his life. Breathing out a shaky exhale, nearly overwhelmed by all the emotions swirling around in his chest, Draco cast a shaving charm to rid himself of his five o'clock shadow, then moved on to his teeth. With his morning ablutions done, Draco dressed and returned to his bed.

He picked up the innocuous letter and ripped it open, shaking out its contents. His heart immediately froze under his sternum before tripling is pace and Draco's hand shook slightly as he recognized Hermione's handwriting. Sitting heavily on the edge of his bed, the pale wizard picked up the note and swallowed thickly, unsure if he truly wanted to read the words held within. Closing his eyes, Draco conjured the smile she sent him just before leaving his room, cheeky and excited. He'd thought it had to do with classes beginning, which would have been a damn good guess, but maybe…

With a steadying breath, Draco unfolded the parchment and began to read.

* * *

 _My dearest Draco,_

 _I will never forget the way I felt after reading your first letter. A very sad part of me felt healed and washed clean of all the horrible things you ever spat in my direction. The more I considered it, the more I thought it might be as comforting for you to finally receive a reply._

 _Even if it took an entire lifetime to happen._

 _I can still picture you as that angry boy. Our past hasn't been erased or significantly altered, but hindsight is always 20/20. Only as I write this, do I realize you may not understand that idiom. 20/20 eyesight is considered perfect vision, so it's a muggle phrase that I'm unsure whether you have any frame of reference for. Do wizards see optometrists? Or is there a specific route of healer training that covers all things eye related? I'm sorry, I've veered off course with my digression._

 _When I recall those times now, I can see the struggle in your eyes. I can see your mind warring with your heart and for the most part, I just feel sorry for the children we were. Had I even once put myself in your position, walked a mile in your shoes, perhaps I would have tried to extend an olive branch to bridge the divide. I'd love to give your younger self a hug; maybe offer a compassionate and sympathetic ear to listen to your troubles._

 _It's quite silly, but I often find myself wondering how our lives would have changed if I had. Or, had you been able to deliver your first letter when you wrote it. Where would we be now? Do you think we would have fancied one another sooner? Would we be a solid, long-term couple by now? Could I have helped you before the war? Together, would we have found a way to save your family and keep you from taking the Mark?_

 _Again, I know I'm being completely ridiculous. It doesn't matter. We are where we are and everything happens for a reason, I must believe that, otherwise, I'd go utterly mad. Still, it's fascinating to ponder over what might have been. Maybe nothing would change, and this path we've chosen has been written in the stars and has always been where we were destined to end up. But then again, maybe everything would be different._

 _Maybe I would have spent all of last year sharing a tent with you, while Ron and Harry slept in another? Maybe we would have been the best of friends before eventually realizing the other was everything we'd been wishing for? I like to imagine there's an alternate reality where that's true. And I hope to make it a reality here with you, if only a little bit backwards. I already count you as one of my closest, nearest, and dearest friends, it wouldn't take much to elevate you another level._

 _A girl can dream, anyway._

 _A thing I hate about remembering the past is that I recognize the sad and scared little boy you were is still very much there, hiding behind a very convincing mask most days. I can't tell you how many times my heart has broken while listening to you talk about yourself. The same is true for each of your letters. You have such a warped sense of self, sweetheart._

 _If only you could see what I do._

 _You were a child, Draco. When all of this misery began, and through every decision, you made over the course of the past seven years, you were a child. That is the most important thing I beg you to remember and accept. You still carry so much guilt and all of it's negativity with you to this day, love. Every time I see guilt and shame darkening your gorgeous eyes, I feel a physical ache in my chest._

 _So if you take nothing else away from this letter, I pray it will be this:_

 _You were a child. You were put in an impossible situation. If I were given the same choices you were, I would have chosen to save my family too. You may have done the wrong thing, but sweetheart, you did it for the right reasons._

 _You were so strong._

 _You were so brave._

 _Not only because it was an honorable thing to do, (disregarding your own safety and happiness in exchange for your mother and fathers) but also because the moment that monster fell, you saw the opportunity to change your life, and even though it must have been terrifying and so confusing at times, you took it. Eagerly and happily. I don't care how sentimental and utterly Gryffindor it makes me, I'm so bloody proud of you for it._

 _That's_ _real_ _courage. That's_ _real_ _strength._

 _Confronting the things you've always been told to be true and thinking for yourself, opening your eyes and questioning everything you've been taught is such a monumental and cataclysmic paradigm shift. And you've handled it with so much careful grace, it's been a breathtaking and life-altering thing to witness. We wouldn't be where we are today if you hadn't made these choices for yourself. And Draco? I am so thankful you did._

 _I am overjoyed that we found our way to each other through all the twists and turns, through all the ups and downs. Somehow, someway through all the horror we witnessed, and all the evil we survived, you became mine. You've become my soft place to land. I can't imagine you not here with me any longer. It's painful to try._

 _Of course, all of this was entirely unexpected, but it's also easily the best thing to ever happen to me. Sometimes I still catch myself staring at you and wondering what alternate reality I've stumbled into - because girl's like me never land guy's like you. I know, I know, I can hear you ranting already. I only say it because it's true._

 _You're glorious, Draco. You've always been handsome, and you've always known it. But Merlin, you have grown into every sharp angle and curve perfectly, sweetheart. And your eyes. I love your eyes. They're the most curious shade of silverish grey, with the barest hints of blue around the edges and if I stare into them for too long, I lose all common sense. But when you smile, Draco?_

 _I've never seen anything so beautiful before. It changes your whole face and you get these little crinkles around your eyes that soften them tenfold. My heart literally skips a beat or two, each and every time you smile that smile at me. I sound like a lovesick fool, and perhaps I am, but I mean every word of it._

 _You may not recognize it yourself, but you have one of the gentlest hearts I've ever had the incredible pleasure of knowing on an intimate level. You give all of yourself when you're passionate about something or someone and that has been an incredible discovery for me. I had seen brief glimpses of your passionate nature before, but now I witness that same fervor and flame on a daily basis and it's remarkably attractive. I have some concern that your passionate nature may very well be the death of me one of these days._

 _You have no idea the effect you have on me. You couldn't possibly know._

 _I am just so thankful we were granted this chance._

 _It will be a gift that I treasure all the days of my life. You know how I feel about divination and we can't know what the future has in store for us without it. But I can promise you this:_

 _You will always have a place in my heart, Draco Malfoy._

 _I could never cast you out of my life completely, not after everything we've overcome. So no matter what we face in the future, whether as lovers or as friends, I promise you we'll face it together. I don't foresee another stealing my heart away from you, and if I were to be totally honest, when I envision the future, you're always there with me. Those might be childish hopes and vivid daydreams but they make me happy._

 _No one has ever made feel as cherished and adored as you have, Draco. It's mind-boggling in the best way. You feel like a part of me already, a part I hadn't realized I was missing until you were here with me and I felt the difference. You've brought my smile back when I was certain it would be lost forever. You bring me joy, every single day._

 _In your letters, you apologize again and again and it's imperative you realize and fully understand that I forgive you, Draco. I wholeheartedly forgive you. For all the unkind words, for every tear, for every time you did the opposite of what you felt was right. Even without your letters, if I had the chance to get to know you, it would be blatantly obvious that you are a good man and deserve forgiveness. I don't care if it takes the rest of my life, I will remind you of this fact until you believe it._

 _You are worthy of forgiveness, love. Just as you are today._

 _You already have mine._

 _I have a fervent hope that someday you will be able to look back on your past and see what I see, a strong boy making impossible choices and surviving hell. Maybe then you can forgive yourself. Each time I read through the letters, I'm ill-prepared for the strength of your self-loathing and it's just as painful as the first time, every time. I understand why and certainly sympathize with you, but I can only hope and pray that with time and understanding you'll come to realize your worth on your own._

 _I can tell you what I think until I'm blue in the face and you're beyond sick of hearing me harp on it, but until you can look back and see that your painful history is what made you into the amazing man you've become and will continue to be - it's all for naught. It's important that you can see yourself properly, with all the wonderful and amazing things I see._

 _You know what I find the most mysterious of all the letters and stories my older self told me about? The fact that the future version of you never contacted future Hermione following her divorce. I've found myself thinking about that a lot since receiving your letters. I believe it may have come down to self-worth then, as well. You weren't willing to try because you assumed I would spurn your advances._

 _My heart breaks for that version of you, sweetheart. I imagine_ _you_ _, my_ _Draco, all alone and suffering through year after year and it's enough to steal my breath away._

 _Already you are so important to me, Draco. Your happiness is paramount to my own. You're incredibly easy to fall for, did you know?_

 _For a man with such an impressive emotional mask, you wear your heart on your sleeve and love freely, openly, and without restraint. Since reading your letters, I have never doubted your love or concern for me. I might believe you need your eyesight checked, but that's the long and short of my disbelief in everything you've shared with me._

 _I'll admit that I'm scared of how strongly I feel about you. It seems like such a short amount of time to feel something so deeply and profoundly. But I find myself doing so, nonetheless. In a matter of mere months, you've become one of the best aspects of my short life. And most definitely one of the most important._

 _I've already fallen in love with you, Draco Malfoy._

 _You._

 _Not the future version of yourself that lived a solitary existence pining away for a love that never found its chance to flourish._

 _Not the sad, broken boy who grew into a man between the lines of the parchment he poured his heart into._

 _You_ _. Just as you are today, reading this missive. Wonderful, kind, compassionate you. The man who makes me smile and laugh when I really don't feel like I can anymore. The man who looks at me like I'm a blessing. A gift. Someone you treasure and cherish unabashedly._

 _Quite honestly, it's the most freeing feeling, isn't it? Giving yourself over to it, giving in to it? Allowing this all-consuming emotion to fill you up and seep out in the quiet, stolen moments we share. I didn't know love would be like this. I'm honestly not sure it would be with anyone other than you._

 _I want to believe it's unique to you and me, alone. Maybe that's fantastical thinking, but...I like to think it, regardless._

 _I know we'll have challenges to face. In fact, that's part of the reason I chose today to finally respond. I know we'll face some backlash; it would be detrimental to expect otherwise. Again, however, I'll remind you that there is nothing we cannot overcome and conquer together._

 _I fear_ _nothing __with you by my side._

 _So today, any time someone makes you feel like you don't belong, either here at Hogwarts or with me, I want you to remember this. Remember that I love you, for who you are and no one can take that away from you._

 _Because you_ _earned __it._

 _Every single day, every time you chose to open up instead of shutting me out. Every time you consoled me through my ever-present grief. Every time you proved your words with your actions…_

 _…_ _you earned it._

 _And I love you all the more for it._

 _Always and with all my love,_

 _Hermione_

* * *

His hands were shaking so much by the time he finished, Draco was honestly surprised he could read the last half of her letter. Tears flowed unchecked down his pale cheeks and he couldn't seem to draw in a full breath of air. His chest felt full to bursting, but also tight and almost painful. Blinking fresh tears from his eyes, the pale wizard watched as they fell and stained the parchment still quivering between his hands.

Before he realized what he was doing, Draco was up and out of his bedroom - striding purposefully out of his common room and breaking into a jog as soon as he hit the hall. Sliding around the corner, Draco pushed himself faster, needing desperately to see his witch and make absolutely sure that this wasn't all some terribly cruel joke.

"Initium novum," Draco cried from several feet away, gasping for breath as he crossed her threshold. He skidded to a stop when he spotted the witch in question leaning casually against the wall just inside the door.

"I thought it'd be smart to be waiting for you this time." Her voice was soft but held a teasing lilt to it. Her endless eyes widened as Draco staggered through the few steps separating them and pulled her into a crushing embrace, burying his face in the curls he'd come to love almost as much as the witch they belonged to.

"Please," he begged in a choked whisper. "Please say it?"

Hermione thought briefly about acting as if she didn't know what he meant, but when he uttered another broken 'please' around a sob, she dismissed the idea quickly. Pulling back only a fraction of an inch, the witch waited until he met her eyes once more and offered him an adoring smile.

"I love you, Draco Malfoy."

The words had barely left her lips before Draco's were covering them, and she could taste the salt of his tears on her tongue. He groaned into her mouth, pressing her back against the wall and leaving no space between their bodies. Hermione gripped his muscular shoulders and returned the kiss with equal passion, opening her mouth to allow their tongues to slide and dance together as they fought to get as close as physically possible to the other.

Tears prickled behind her closed lids as Draco's hands delved into her hair, holding her captive in his intoxicating kiss. Lungs burning, the pair broke away to gulp down much-needed air, but his lips didn't leave her. Instead, they peppered kisses all over her face: forehead, eyes, nose, cheeks, chin and back to her lips - though this time, the kiss was slower, sweeter and full of so much love and want it made her heart hurt, while her stomach clenched with desire.

"Again," Draco murmured into the kiss.

"I love you, you silly wizard," Hermione chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck and smiling against his lips.

" _Merlin_ ," he gasped and rested his forehead against hers. "I don't think I've ever heard anything more beautiful, Hermione. I swear it."

Once again, her heart thudded painfully in her chest, but the ache was sweet and all-consuming.

"Well, you better get used to. I imagine you'll be hearing it often enough." Hermione's smile was wide and nearly blinding, as she brushed the pale blonde fringe out of his eyes.

"I love you more than I ever thought I was capable of, Hermione. You're everything to me, you know that, right?" Draco's pewter eyes were still cloudy with tears, but they searched the deep, rich brown of her own, seeking affirmation that his witch did indeed understand just how much she meant to him.

"I know," Hermione whispered in response, knocked breathless by the uninhibited emotions swirling in his heavy gaze. "I know, Draco."

"Gods," he choked and crushed her petite form against his chest once more, rocking them slowly side to side. "I've dreamed of this a million times, but they pale in comparison. I never thought this day would come."

"It's here now. And we're in this together, right?" Hermione asked sweetly, cupping his cheeks tenderly and staring up at him with naked love and adoration shining in her eyes.

"Fucking always," He assured.

"Always," she nodded, choking only slightly on the tears clogging her throat.

Draco finally pulled away with a deep sigh and held out his hand, "Breakfast, love?" Hermione wasted no time slipping her hand into his with an emotional smile and nodded.

And as her wizard led them out of her dormitory, hand in hand, Hermione knew no matter what they faced in the future, so long as they were together, they could withstand anything and everything the world threw at them.

~Fin~

* * *

 _Endnotes: That's it. It's done. I'm battling tears. This story has meant so much to me and I seriously cannot thank each of you enough for all the love and encouragement you've all given me over the past several months. I wouldn't have been able to accomplish this milestone without you. Each and every single one of you. I love you guys, so much. And I hope I'll see you when I start posting my new stories. So, so, so much love to you, dear readers. Thank you. xx - otterly_

 _{ETA: So wow, I feel bad for the readers that read this as soon as it was initially posted. It's only roughly an hour later, but after I noticed a couple small errors, I decided to go back into the doc and just make sure there weren't any more. Boy were there! This is what happens when you write in the early hours of the morning and are just so excited and emotional about finishing you don't think to READ THROUGH IT before posting. I apologize. Hopefully, this copy is much better.}_


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